Genetic Fox
by Ireth-Tasartir
Summary: In a world where magic has disappeared, Ron suffers a great change. Meanwhile a spirit is murdering former Hogwarts students. Now, while keeping his secret hidden, Ron and Hermione must solve the mistery and stop the murderer. And where is Harry?
1. The Vision

"How long has it been since it all happened?" inquired the troubled mind of the young university student.

His eyes gazed at the people before him. Brown eyes blazed dreamy at his surroundings, gleaming in their chestnut intensity, glowing with a cunning and an intelligence only present in his person.

"Too long!" his mind answered, "or was it yesterday?" it inquired again, walking round and gliding by the same thoughts over an over as his eyes observed without observing.

The artificial light licked his hair with the pale, silvery rays, making it blaze with fire. He, unconsciously, ran a hand through the already wild and tame less hair, making each strand point one side or other, like the crests of a flame, flickering calmly in slow motion. Indeed, the air conditioner shook his hair so gently it seemed almost as if his head ignited with the red and orange glow of fire.

The boy sighed, returning his hand to rest by his side numbly. He felt the drops of sweat trickling down his forehead, tickling his pale skin, caressing each cell with their cold fingers. He motioned his hand once again, rubbing the uncomfortable fluid off his brow, and sighing once again. Although the air conditioner was on, and there was not a terrible amount of people present in the wagon, the heat was increasing considerably.

"Maybe I'm getting sick!" thought the boy once again, observing the people around him now with a growing interest.

A medium aged woman was fanning herself insistently with one of those flyers someone gave them at the entrance of the underground, those that ended up scattered at the very same entrance, or piling themselves inside a full dustbin. An old man had his head pinned back, a trail of drool falling almost viscously down the corner of his mouth, his breathing paused signal he was dozing. A young woman was having trouble in controlling a little kid, who seemed to be getting bored by the second and had decided to play races up and down the wagon.

"Interesting!" thought the boy, taking in a deep breath, feeling the hot air filling his lungs with a painful pressure. He gasped and bent down slightly.

Someone stared at him, maybe interested, maybe disdainfully. He heard words about drugs and looked around. Two girls were talking about their glorious weekend. He knew them, they were from his class, yet paid them little, if no attention at all.

"Good for you!" he thought to himself, staring at the two girls with dislike, "Remind me so much of those two gits, Parvati and Lavender" his thoughts concluded, for no more focus would be given to them.

He looked down, at his feet, and felt the vehicle moving. It slithered gently past the station, leaving it behind and penetrating the terrible mouth of darkness. A black veil engulfed them immediately, and all clarity came from the bulbs hanging over their heads. But nobody noticed the terrible, anguishing shadows that lurked behind the weak, feeble glass, observing them, ready to pounce over them in any second. But he did notice, yet, all was lost now. His hands clutched the books so strongly that they bent slightly.

"It's been so long, yeah! It's been so long!" he thought again, bored about his stance in the train, and the monotony of every day's trip, "however the outcome shouldn't have been that! That wasn't the outcome we all expected, it wasn't how things were to turn out!" the boy thought desperately, lowering his head more and shutting his eyes tightly.

He felt humid and warm tears streaming down his cheeks in dense and profuse rivers. He bared his teeth, keeping himself from sobbing, keeping them so firmly closed and pressed that it was painful. His fingers clutched the books once again strongly, his knuckles white from the pressure, his nails digging into the paper with frustration and anger.

Brown eyes opened once again to gaze around, darkness still looming around him, gliding past the windows, chuckling and smirking at him cruelly with coal red eyes and glistening, razor fangs. He could see those terrible features there, in the glass, standing before the rails like a horrible dementor, absorbing his vital delight and his sanity. Returning his attention to the contents of the train, evading the ghost of his past, the young adult observed the people again. Or tried to.

"What?" he inquired himself in the silent voice of his mind, so much like his own, yet so different and wise.

Before it had seemed just that the heat was rising, that summer arrived and the passing hours increased the temperature of the environment. It was a logical solution, wasn't it? A woman fanning herself was a hint to corroborate his thoughts. He was sweating profusely, yet didn't worry much. Now he was convinced that his health had been affected by something, virus, bacteria, yet it was affecting his integrity.

Vision unfocused, blurry. The student could not understand what was happening to him, yet knew he was ill. It was not surprising, the way he had worked and studied so hard for his exams, unlike him, yet he had changed. Everybody had changed. As cruel as the world had been for him, and each hard kick and beat had finally transformed him into the boy he was today.

But now it wasn't the moment to think about his changes, his shadows, and his ghosts. Indeed, he was leaned against the door, trying to focus his vision, blinking continuously. To no avail, for it seemed to be getting worse by the second, more blurry, more unfocused, colours blending and mixing. It seemed as if raindrops were falling over the surface of a lake, the waves distorting the image reflected over it, transforming it into something deformed and shapeless. That was the way he was seeing now.

Far from getting better, it was getting worse. Suddenly several shots of pain raced down his spine, making him gasp hardly, hoarsely. That was when the people, oblivious about the existence of the student, became aware of him. A woman approached him and held out a hand, a worried glance being placed upon him, and a concerned voice fluctuating through the numb veil covering him.

"Are you ok?" inquired the woman staring down at him, almost studying him.

"Stupid question!" thought the boy, "Depends on what you consider being fine!" his thoughts concluded, yet he restrained himself from throwing such words at the unidentified being before him.

"I'm fine! Just need air!" he said in a dry voice, refusing the aiding hand being placed for him.

"Stupid answer, but what am I to say? It's what people say when they don't feel right!" he thought to himself.

The boy walked forward with weak, stumbling and unsteady paces. Suddenly the train's floor had become the nervous and always motioning surface of an oceanic beach. Waves breaking upon the rocks, moving him back and forth, shaking the only solid point on which he could stand. And there, before him, safety, the glossy metal of a dirty bar, the colour of silver. It was his only hope of gaining the frontiers of sanity, of health, and reaching the fresh air that would cure him from the heat stroke he was suffering.

He extended his hand, smiling weakly, reaching the cold metal, caressing it with the tips of his fingers. It was there, standing before him, holding out its palm at him, urging him to go on, to be valiant and move forward. To hold it. He did, he pounced forward, or thought he did for all movement was an enormous amount of effort, and his feeble swaying was like jumping across a cannon. He opened his fingers as wide as he could, plunged forward, threw his hand at the bar, and missed.

Missed, the manly fingers closed around air. The student miscalculated, and all his effort was pointless. He felt his body falling backwards, slow motion. People closed in around him, arms moved forward to take a hold of him. Yet all were too far, or were too doubtful to approach someone who could have some terrible, contagious sickness. However, the young boy fell through the floor, and dived into a terrible darkness.

He was being absorbed, shadows finally encircling him, engulfing his figure, taking a firm grip around the tall and thin body and pulled him further inside, deeper down. He saw the shadows crawling below him, gliding above him, hissing at him from everywhere, slashing threatening and clawing at the atmosphere. The boy, gaining control over his paralyzed and terrified body, spinned and landed on his feet.

He stared around, yet all he saw were shadows and darkness encircling him. His heart was beating furiously, terror filled eyes glistened like red coals in the darkness when he looked further in, finding nothing but the fact that ground and sky were all one.

"Where am I?" he inquired to himself, for nobody would be there to answer, or nobody he considered friendly enough to grant him response over his doubts.

A roar, a growl, a terrible, deep, purr that echoed from the depths of the terrible depths in a threatening way. The boy turned around to encounter a pair of silver eyes, staring at him pleased, delighted. A white spirit appeared from the depths, his sole presence so beautiful and terrifying at once that the shadows retreated and recoiled to demonstrate respect and fear.

"Who are you?" inquired the boy, fearfully, and yet gaining all the courage accumulated in order to release it in something that could bring him answer to his actual problems.

"Me? I'm your worst nightmare!" said the shadow in a terrible, dry hiss, a voice that was so fearfully familiar to the youngster.

It was as if a resort sprang in his mind, auctioning the necessary mechanisms necessary for his survival. His eyes widened with the surprise of the words heard, the impact that this familiar beast with argent eyes pursued him. The boy, gaping with his mouth wide open, maybe attempting to response, or just to silently yell. He turned around, praying for his security, and leapt onto a run that broke his very own boundaries.

Darkness and shadows vanished suddenly, leaving a deserted parade, a harsh environment that blazed red with fire, steamed with boiling heat, and bloomed with hard, razor and sharp rocks that threatened a terrible harm. The parade was of a terrifying beauty, for it was marvellous, with its red and tan rocks, the sky a gleaming fire licking the whole area with a unbearably hot tongue. Yet the boy was not to admire the magnificence of the surroundings, his attention placed on his safety.

The white spirit, with a thunderous roar, had leapt forward interested in capturing the student, and maybe do who knows what to him. The blazing haired boy stole a glance behind, claws razor like knives, curved blades that were nothing but a menace. Fangs long like fingers, sharp like arrows that spoke of pain and suffering. Eyes cold like steel, like ice, in their passiveness sending a message that spoke of no mercy.

The boy knew he could never outrun the spirit, it was obvious, yet he still ran, for there was nothing else he could do. He was conscious of his demise, but was decided not to leave without putting up a fight at least. He didn't realize, however, that the distance was maintained for their speed was similar, and kept in balance, hence the flaming haired student was not to think about absurd probabilities. He simply saw the beast leap, fangs drooling bloodthirsty, claws glistening like sharp swords ready to dive into feeble, soft flesh.

In that moment, and as if the events had not been strange enough, a dragon emerged from the ground. It appeared as if the beast was leaping out of a very muddy pond, for the ground didn't break, it splashed like drops of hot, fluid iron. The boy cringed and held to the flaming brown mane of the dragon as it flew upwards from under his feet. His grip on the magnificent creature was titanic, hope bringing in a breeze of freshness to his pained lungs. The white spirit simply observed him from below, not frustrated, not angry, simply smirking with patience.

The beast was enormous, beautiful like no other creature he had ever seen before, of a bright, copper colour, velvet scales. It had a fine head, similar to a dog's face, yet with very intelligent, deep brown eyes. Like everything in this terrifying world, this saviour reminded him of someone he knew well, he knew and appreciated.

His hopes were to be vanished way too soon as he saw the dragon gaining heights, approaching a ceiling of darkness and shadows, the same sky he had fallen in through. He tugged hard at the dragon's hard, rough hair, pulling simply to gain her attention.

"No, stop! Don't go through there!" The boy screamed fearfully, staring at the shadows, at the darkness with crazed eyes filled with terror. He knew he didn't want another encounter with the ghosts of his past.

But to no avail, for the beast was either oblivious of his existence, or ignoring his pleading words. She approached the darkness, opened the teeth full mouth, and emerged into the depths of that dense, and enormous night. The boy screamed, yelling with all his might for nothing better to do. He covered his head with his arms, protectively yet hopelessly, letting loose from the beast and pressing with his legs in order of not falling. He turned his head to the right, yet always focused his gaze, sided, onto the darkness that was swallowing his saviour.

And his eyes snapped open abruptly, as well as his lung took in a large gulp of air. The student felt as if he had not been breathing for a few seconds, and his lungs ached lightly, as well as his head, which was sore. His gaze was still slightly unfocused, yet now it regained normality, now observing a gleam of light far into the distance, and the sillouettes of various people. Indeed, he was surrounded by a great amount of curious men and women, of all ages.

"He is breathing!" said a triumphant man, one which's face was still undefined for the boy.

"Yeah, but what is he?" said the voice of a woman.

"I'm not sure, he looks human but…!" said another voice into the tide of people that bent before him.

"What? What are they talking about?" the boy inquired himself, realizing from the suave swaying of the floor that he was still on the train.

"Hey, cool disguise, where is the party?" said another voice, from a young man, finishing with a laugh.

"Mommy, san I touch him?" said the little child that had been nervously running up and down the wagon.

"Touch me?" the boy thought alarmed, tensing his muscles and attempting to stand and leap away from the strange likes of this young child.

"Don't go near it!" shrieked the young mother, alarmed, and pulling the child away from the closeness of the young student.

"I'm not an it! What's going on?" thought the boy once again, staring confusedly around.

"Hey, what's happening? Why are you all staring at me as if you have never seen something like me before?" snapped the boy, now visibly annoyed at the events occurring around him.

"He talks!" several people announced utterly admired at such fact.

"Of course I talk, what where you expecting?" snapped the boy standing up, his body was feeling slightly numb, and he felt as if ants were running down his skin, hence he was feeling fine now.

Suddenly, the people around him recoiled alarmed. They pointed at him without any sort of shame, or education, and seemed as interested as fearful. How could they fear him tho? He was nothing but a boy with books who was travelling towards his faculty, ready to do the very few last exams before summer vacations.

"What…what's going on?" he muttered now startled and frightened.

"Isn't that Ron?" muttered one of the girls from his class.

"Yeah, I think so, but what happened to him?" inquired the other girl.

"Lisa, Fawn, what is happening?" Ron inquired helplessly, staring at the two girls with a saddening look praying to know the way of things.

Aside from helping him, the two girls shrieked, and ran to the other side of the train. Murmurss, whispers, thoughts and various, disdainful insults surrounded the poor boy, making him walk backwards until his back was pressed against the train's cold glass. Suddenly he seemed to realize something, why people where so startled, so frightened. Ron turned rapidly, his hand seeking the precious item that was to acompain him through eternity, for it meant his life.

Ron had thought that maybe the revelation of his want might have induced this people into fear. It was logical, after the events of three years ago, that people would fear wizards over all things. But something so rapid like a glimpse on the window, a stray gaze that ran past the cold glass, yet saw enough to catch his attention. Ron might have thought that the fact of him being a wizard had frightened these people, but how close and far from the truth. Whatever he expected, he surely would never have imagined this would be possible, and that it would happen to him.

To Be Continued…

AN: Just something I came across, I guess, my mind is crazy however. Anyways, try to guess what is happening to Ron, I'd like to see what you people think about it. What is the thing that makes people fear him? Who are the mysterious creatures in his vision? Why of everything? Obviously, it will all be revealed at the end of the story, which won't be too long, so keep reading please.


	2. The Fox, the Whisper and the Spirit

There he saw it, reflected into the glass, acting like a mirror thanks to the darkness, his very own image. And he knew it was his image due to the fact that it stood where he was supposed to be, gesturing like him, and staring back at him with his features contorted into shock and surprise. Staring back at Ron was a creature, standing on two feet, yet with the features of an animal, the muzzle had been pulled forward slightly, yet still keeping the humanity of the facial features. Fangs had grown where teeth were, not too large, yet visible enough.

His hair had always been wild, yet now it was more bushy, standing on end due to his shock, to his surprise, and was still that intense red that characterised him, and his family. His eyes were still that same brown, yet something within them seemed to sparkle into beast, maybe it was the red glow where light focused them. His skin was much darker, having turned from a redhead pale to a sunny tan. However, the most notable feature was the bushy, red tail that had grown behind his back, and which swayed back and forth nervously.

"AH!" Ron yelled startled, leaping backwards, causing the people to move away and trip against themselves, "What happened to me!" he inquired desperately, in a high pitched voice.

His brown eyes gazed at the people, fearfully, almost frightened that they'll jump and pin him down. Instead, however, he saw a very startled gaze coming from them, their thoughts equal to his own, fearing that the monstruous beast would attack them merciless. And he understood them. He truly did for the image gazing back at him from the glass was not human. It was a mixture of man and fox, and nothing like that could bring anything good, or so were the human thoughts. Since ancient ages, muggle and wizards have always feared werewolves, men who became bloodthirsty wolves on full moon.

"Oh no!" Ron suddenly gasped upon realization, "Am I a werewolf?" he inquired himself, gazing fearfully at his own hands.

People around him stared at each other, most curious yet none daring to approach the beast that had suddenly appeared before him. The train came to a stop, an acute and hard screeching made Ron wince. People took a hold of the metallic bars in order of maintaining themselves on their feet, hence those who didn't ended up with their bones against the floor.

The doors opened, unsticking the rubber band that isolated them. To a frustrated Ron it was his chance to escape. He leapt forward, towards the surprised and startled passengers. Various screamed in shock and fear, hence the others simply gazed with fearful eyes. Ron didn't focus on this, for now he was both, startled and frightened, and a frightened animal can be dangerous. He leapt over the people blocking his path, and landed on all fours on the cold stone of the platform.

People leapt aside as Ron, running still on all fours, his eyes crazed and seeking nervously for an exit, ran past them at full speed. His nose scented the air in search of fresh, non viced breeze that was to penetrate the train station. He ran up the stairs, leaping over them four to four. As he reached the top, he tackled a man and threw him to the floor, falling along with him. Ron layed on the floor, panting, breathing heavily and filling his lungs with warm air. This incident was enough to cool his nerves for a few instants.

"Hey kid, watch where you're going!" snapped the man, rubbing his sore back where he had collided with the hard stone.

"Sorry, I was just…I'm sorry!" Ron muttered alarmed, standing up and quickly extending a hand to the man.

The man gazed at the hand, ready to take it and accept the help. His eyes darted over to the tan skin, then to the startled face with canine features, a humid, black nose and sharp fangs. The man's face contorted and deformed into a curious glance, and almost immediately into a terrified gaze, coinciding with the vision of a free willed tail wagging behind Ron's back. The man pulled his hand back and started yelling uncontrollably, horror paling the facial skin, and startling Ron's fox inctints. The people muttered and murmured, gazing at the scene with obvious interest, all as startled in the large station as the few passengers of the train.

"Sorry!" they boy muttered sadly and leapt into a race again, this time his biped feet carried him along without making use of his legs.

"Hey, stop running on the halls!" yelled an old man, distinctly thinking that this was a lack of respect towards the humanity in general.

"Stupid asshole…wait a minute, what the heck is that?" snapped another voice.

"Cool tail, where did you get it?" said a third, joking or not, Ron ignored.

"That thing is real!" gasped another with a startled voice.

"No animals in the station!" the voice of a policeman called after an oblivious Ron.

Ron emerged into the fresh breeze and the clear sun of day. He took in several deep breaths, and extended his arms to the skies, thanking the Godess and the God for the gift he had been granted with. The run caressed his hair and fur with the delicate, golden rays, pulling and stealing glossy glitters of flaming red and orange from the silky hair and soft fur.

As the young student recovered his calm and breath, his eyes opened to see people surrounding him once again. At a fair distance, yet close enough as to take a god look at the fox boy, people studied him and murmured about his physical appereance. It was frustrating enough to be converted in some sort of werefox, more being pointed at and gazed at constantly. Although inevitable, Ron was starting to get more nervous about the people's curiosity than about the fact that he was a half animal now.

Pace fast and agile like the fox he was dragged him away from the unhealthy curiosity of the people. Although the highway was full with a profuse traffic, Ron leapt the safety barrier and started running across it. The strident sound of a car honking, the roar of motors, screeching of the stopping pedal affecting the wheels. Ron saw it, a magnificent Peugeot 407, of a deep, stormy cloud blue. The violent looking lights focused on the small, human figure with canine features that stood before it.

Ron was not to wait to feel the mouth of the vehicle tearing down his limbs. Before the surprised glare of the driver, the boy leapt up, landing on the ceiling of the car. The metal bent down, leaving a very untidy gap on the blue surface, the sound of breaking plastic and cracking metal echoed throughout the inside of the cabine. From there Ron leapt up again, reaching the other side of the highway and vanishing into the depths of a very profuse park, blooming with life all around it, filling itself with the bright greens of leaves and a rainbow of flowers.

"What the heck was that?" inquired the confused driver to himself, poking his head out of the window and far too startled to bother about the harm his new car had suffered.

The boy was safe now. The park at such early hours was basicly empty, and the area he had chosen was well guarded by the deep foliage of bloomed trees and bushes. He sat there, under a fresh shadow, his back pressed against the hard, rough bark of a tree trunk. His breathing calmed, his mind analyzed all the events occurred in this few minutes. His brown eyes gazed at the tan hands, his pale skin had vanished to leave this sort of mild, chocolate skin of an almost reddish tone. The fox tail waved back and forth gently, brushing the grass with the reddish fur, tipped in a creamy white.

His ears layed down, and he furrowed his brow, lips curling down sadly, pressing strongly to avoid making any sound. Shutting his eyes tightly, he allowed all the grief of his heart spilling out uncontrollably. Ron pulled his knees to his forehead, and hugged his legs, hiding his face between them. Tears flowed abundantly, trailing streams down his cheeks. His body began to convulse, to have continuous spasms, and the weak sound of a whimper echoed muffled by his legs, his sobbing went on as silently as he could maintain it.

He raised his head from the hidden position between the warmth of his legs. His skin shone brightly under the tender touch of golden rays which sneaked past the dense ceiling of leaves, crawling between the thick foliage. Salty tears were still streaming down his cheeks, the skin was humid with the sticky fluid representing his grief. His chestnut eyes were thick and puffy, red with the irritation the tears represented on them. Through the blurry veil of his sadness Ron observed his now tan hands, and more convulsions shook his body as the crying continued. A hiccup affected him abruptly, and his throat contracted into a canine whimper from the discomfort this represented. Not had he suddenly become a creature, but he was also feeling physically awful.

"Why is this happening to me?" Ron suddenly exclaimed, his voice was nothing but a sharp whine, a very acute shriek broken by his own manly tone.

"I don't know!" said a voice before the kid, a voice that startled Ron to the very boundaries of hope and fear.

It was a clear voice, deeper than his very own, that irradiated with a security, a courage he never even dreamed of possessing. However, the fact that had startled him more than the mere presence of such vocal tones was the familiarity that resided in this man's sound waves. Ron shot his head up to stare at the creature standing before him, praying deep inside him not to be mistaken in his assumptions, and hopelessly wishing that all this events were, for once, not a dream. The strong, manly hands rubbed the chestnut eyes in an attempt of clearing the translucid veil of grief and desperation, willing to see the bearer of the well known voice.

Ron looked up, and stared intently at the figure, but whatever he had been expecting upon receiving a response to the rethoric question, it was not what his, still slightly blurry gaze saw.

"Come on, Joice, up down, feel his rhythm, and follow it!" said the strong willed voice of a woman on her early twenties.

"Be careful Jason, pull on the outside rein, there, good job, now hold her back, see? It's not that hard now is it?" went on the same voice as before, brown eyes turning to gaze at something else, hence her previous area of focus.

Around her spiralled the clear, pale dust lifted by the enormous weights. Feeble clouds of hazy mist floated lazily over the square field. Afternoon sun tinted the sky with flames, and gold sparkled in the humid grass. The woman smiled delighted, pleased, cherry lips curled into a grateful smile as she secretly thanked the God and the Goddess for the gift she had been granted.

She stared at her surroundings, pleased with herself, hence a hint of nostalgy glinted in the corner of her eye. The enormous castle towered over the vast extentions of ground it carried along, the millenary stones glowing a pale green and a misty grey from the moss and humidity crawling up its walls. Grass extended a bright green rug along the whole land, only to sneak into the woodland, where a vast and profuse foliage crested the trees' heads. Such trees stood high and strong, like colossus, guardians of all creatures, inhabitants of their depths. Next to the castle, where there were the greenhouses had been built long cottages, this used to guard the equines. And several fields, two of them were sand, while the third maintained the bright grass blooming in the whole field.

The girl sighed again, taking a good look into the depths of her memories, seeing things that were no longer there, remembering herself, a long time ago, in this same grounds, in this same place, working much differently than now. She liked her job, but had she been asked in her youth, this was what she least expected. Her bushy hair was of a mud brown, a bright chestnut colour, and was tightly held into a thick ponytail to keep it from disturbing her eyes when working. She had grown pretty and tall, her childlish features gone to release a well formed woman with large, brown eyes and fleshy lips, a small, thin nose and a well defined jaw.

Around her, galloping with their characteristic elegance, galloped the finest horses of the whole town. A black mare was making a great effort to release a full gallop, while the boy mounting her had an enormous trouble in keeping her calm and steady. Behind him, a girl was having more problems in keeping her balance on the saddle. The rest of the group, three other children, all of them not older than fifteen, did their job as well as they could, for horse riding was as well as tiring as it was complicated.

"Come on children, the reprise is only three days away and you can barely control your horses!" the woman called at the group visibly frustrated at their ways.

"Hermione!" said a voice behind the woman.

The professor turned around to see a young woman, about her age, with long hair held on a bun ridding a beautiful white horse. It was an impressive male, tall and strong, representing the full power and beauty of these creatures.

"Rest!" Hermione called to the group, and the children, relieved, led the horses to pace, all except the boy riding the black mare who still was full of spirits and eagered to gallop, "said Lavender!" the professor urged her on.

"I'm off to the forest for a walk, need to run him a little!" the girl said with a bright smile, a sing of the clear beauty she had once owned, which had vanished through the horrors lived.

"Fine, Lavender, but don't force him much, the ankle might still be a little sore!" The stronger woman suggested, sending the rider a calm, knowing smile.

"Don't worry, come on Whisper!" Lavender nodded, pressing onto the horse's sides and pulling on the left rein such that the beast would motion in the desired way.

"Come on people, trot, gallop, to the left…now!" Hermione went on with the class, smiling to herself.

A sigh escaped from her mouth, deep, profound and nostalgic. Yes, she, Hermione Granger, talented Witch and student at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry, was now the professor at a Horse Riding School, that same School she had once attended to as a Witch. However, things were not to turn the way they did, now were they?

Stomping on the ground with the enormous hooves, the white horse walked on at a light trot, exercising the injured leg into movement once again. Whisper tossed his head nervously up and down, chewing onto the bite constantly. Lavender leaned forward and patted his neck several times, holding the reins with only one hand. Her pale eyes stared worriedly at the one who had become her whole life right now.

"Hey, what's wrong my friend? You want to gallop, isn't it?" she said with a bright smile, calming the animal with soft cooings, "Don't worry, you will gallop very soon!" she finished sitting straight again and holding the reins with both hands.

Lavender's gaze turned to the sky, completely covered by the thick foliage. A dark veil had extended it's wings across the heavens, covering it completely with the velvet cloak sparkled with millions of pale glitters. The girl knew well that this forest had been long empty from all magical creatures, vanished or extinguished, and the few remaints were hidden or camouflaged between humans like themselves. However, although she was conscious of this fact, she was still uncomfortable in the depths of this haunted woodlands.

A rustle of leaves behind her, a gentle rumbling, like a melodious growling. Lavender quickly turned around on her saddle, attempting hopelessly to gaze into the depths of the night. To no avail, for nothing could penetrate the thick shadows that engulfed everything. She had been impulsed to grab her wand and charm a luminity incantation, hence she soon remembered this item was kept safely inside her chambers.

"Probably it was just a fox!" she told herself attempting to calm her accelerated heart, and reassuring herself that her fear had no base, after all, nothing magical remained here.

A deep roar echoed in the forest, and this time no fox could emit such a dry, and beautiful sound all the same. The girl turned around startled, the horse stood on his hind legs, neighing loudly with a shrilly, alarmed sound. The animal's terror was accompanied by a horrified yell, the one irradiating from the woman's throat at the vision of the thing crouching behind the bushes.

Indeed, out of the bushes leapt a spirit, as white as the foggy mist slithering past the trees on a very cold, winter night. Eyes cold like eyes, silvery like steel bore into the woman, tearing her heart with the mere view of such gaze. Lavender saw cruelty, a heartless vice glinting red in the cold gaze.

Was it luck or destiny, she ignored, but luck had it that her well bred mustang acted on pure instinct, and let himself be carried away. With a leap as he stood on his hind legs, the horse began a full time gallop. Legs moved vigorously, body combined perfectly with the environment, and the intelligent creature took good care of not running past low branches, hence the ridder won't suffer a terrible fall. Whisper leapt a rather large log, Lavender, as experienced as she was already leaned forward, regaining her back straight position when the horse's hands touched the ground.

Bad luck, or destiny, Lavender would never know, but Whisper's injured hand gave in when the 500 kilograms of fibrous mass and muscles touched the ground on the weakened ankle. The animal collapsed forward sending Lavender flying to the ground, landing luckily on a thick mass of green moss. Whisper remained on the floor, whimpering and grunting, immobile, breathing deeply and surrending to the obvious.

The girl knew the spirit was in pursue of them, hence she ignored her own fear, and acted in such way nobody would ever have expected that from the sissy girl of Hogwarts. She stood up whimpering lightly, her body sore from the hard fall, and her arm probably injured with a bone fissure. But nothing mattered now, only the rustling of leaves approaching as the spirit came closer, threatening them both, her and Whisper. Lavender would never know what went over her, perhaps her love for the mustang, the way the two of them came so close after the terrible disaster, how they protected themselves, strangers in a normal world.

Lavender rushed towards the horse, but didn't stop, didn't try to lift him up, she leapt over the enormous body and stopped before him. The spirit was close now, but she didn't move, her gaze defiant, her fists clenched tightly, and her integrity being as whole as her courage managed to keep it. The white phantom stopped before her, claws ready to slash, fangs foamy and bloodthirsty, but the gaze was curious, interested in the girl's reaction.

"Stop! You won't take him!" she affirmed extending her arms like a phoenix, wincing at the pain that shot through her left one, yet keeping her features as valiant and defiant as she managed.

Whisper lifted his head and stared at his owner and rider, his green eyes, for they were an intense olive green, gazed at the woman worriedly. He neighed and snorted, motioning at the girl with the point of his muzzle, wanting to catch her attention, somehow.

"Stupid girl, no magical creature can live!" the white ghost pointed out with a sharp, cruel laughter.

"Not him. Run Whisper, RUN!" Lavender said, now turning her back on the being and turning towards her mustang.

Lavender pulled onto the mane, tugging at it and motioning for him to stand up. The horse went on his knees, whinnying sadly, pained about the ache his injured leg was suffering. Shots of an intense, burning flame coursed through his swollen flesh and broken bone.

"Come on Whisper, Gallop, Gallop!" she called sadly, knowing she was sacrificing her safety for the being she cared for the most, understanding that he could not carry her weight again with the leg so badly injured.

"Fool, that horse can't run!" affirmed truthfully the spirit, approaching the woman with silent steps.

Whisper stared at the woman with a care and love that ignited his eyes with a calid flame. Lavender returned the gaze, tears starting to fall down her cheeks as her frustration grew within herself. She loved this horse, but it was that feeling which impulsed her to sacrifice herself for the creature. The animal won't go, he just couldn't abandon this woman who he admired so much to her faith, knowing he was injured, he still wanted to protect her. Lavender grew annoyed, angry, tears blurring her vision, yet keeping enough gaze to see the animal she cared for so much clearly, a well defined shape before her.

"GO!" she yelled as angry and frustrated as she could, slapping the horse on the hind buttocks with much strength, enough to make him feel a slight itch.

A neigh echoed in the woodlands, and the sound of limping hooves galloping vanished in the far distance. He was slow yet quick enough to escape the terror that was present in the woodlands. Such terror, however, was immersed in his own doubts, frozen by the vision his eyes had perceived something began beating feebly, and deeper within a sensation shook violently. He was startled by the vision, the care the two beings shared, the love that united them, and induced them to give their lives for each other.

"What is that? Is that love? Have I known love? It seems…familiar!" thought the beast shaking the elegant head vigorously, trying to clear his mind, and staring at the woman under a new light.

"I love you Whisper!" Lavender left this words to the wind, to be carried to the only one who had really meant something to her.

The morning was coming in fresh, the sky still remained a dark violet colour, sparkled by the last stars and luminous objects to be visible on the sky. The sun was beginning to wake up, rising into a clear dawn, free of clouds and promising to be a warm day. Hermione, however, was not to enjoy the fresh morning, nor the beautiful day for her pleasant dreams had been disturbed by an alarming sound. Pulling a cloak around herself she made her way towards the window in order to see what was going on over the grounds, concretely next to the stables.

"Oh my goodness!" Hermione exclaimed, gasping loudly, eyes wide, rough hand covering her mouth, the shock she had received paralyzing her body for a few instants until she was able to recover her mobility and react to the events.

To Be Continued…

AN: Ok, so we have the hero, the girl and the bad guy, doesn't this look like some Spiderman movie? Or do we have the hero? What about the girl? Or the bad guy? Is he really that bad? And the hero has he got the superpowers he needs to fight evil? And what has happened to change all of this? Keep reading and you will find the answer to all of this questions, you can also try to guess, who knows, you might have the third eye :P.


	3. Questions Unanswered

Standing before her, elegant, proud and strong as he had always been, was none other than Whisper. Clear eyes gazed intelligently, yet almost desperately, urging at the girl. The beautiful head tossed up and down, shaking the pearly, silvery mane to the sky, glittering as if covered in bright, starry powder. The sound that had woken her up from her sleep had been a nervous neigh, one far from fear hence full of worry. Hermione noticed the right leg lifted up untidily, painfully, and the ankle, the conjunction where the hoof joined the leg was very swollen.

"Oh my, Lavender, what have you done?" Inquired Hermione to herself, deducing at first that the poor stallion had been forced over his limits, and that all had been a fall.

Hermione directed a reassuring gaze at the intelligent horse, and turned on her heels. She took barely a few minutes to get dressed on her ridding suit, her hard, leather books, thick pants and security vest. She stormed then out of the room with the speed and strength of a hurricane, pushing away without mercy anything that impeded her way past. She knocked on various doors rather harshly, and raced down the stairs to the room which had once been her Common Room, Gryffindor's Common Room.

Her wait was short, barely, seven or eight minutes before the reclaimed people made their presence, more physically than mentally. The three people that appeared still rubbed their eyes, puffy and with dark rings present under the orbs. They where half dressed, for their attempts at such early hours, and so recently awoken where pointless. The boy had a gentle brown face and was gazing at her concerned, yet more annoyed at the fact that he had been awoke so abruptly at such early hours. The two girls, one had curly flaming hair, while the other wore a dreamy expression in her large eyes, gazing at Hermione expectantly through her strands of sleek, golden hair.

"I hope you have a good explanation for this, Hermione!" said the boy with a gentle face, swallowing down a yawn.

"Yeah, the fact that you are in charge of the Equitation School doesn't give you right to boss us around!" the pretty girl pointed out visibly bugged at her insistent calls.

"Neville, Ginny, shut up and let me talk first, then you'll judge!" Hermione retorted severely, hence her voice hid a stutter of worry.

"Yes, let her speak!" the girl, shorter and rather scrawny glared at them through her starry gaze.

"Shut the fuck up Luna, it's five thirty in the morning!" Ginny muttered yawning profusely.

"Now listen up, last night Lavender went for a walk with Whisper, and the horse has returned alone, his leg more injured than it was!" Hermione explained, looking behind her back as if seeking something.

"What!" gasped the three people in unison, now fully awake, startled and worried all at once.

"So we will do this, Neville, hurry up, saddle Saletta, Balkan and Bankara, Ginny, Luna and I will go search for her!" Hermione ordered urgently.

Neville gazed at her. He was confused, at some point, for he had some difficulties in understanding why he was not allowed to go with them. Surely he was not the best of riders, and controlling a horse was not as easy as it might seem, but he was good willed and hard worker, and was more than sure that he could do well in accompanying the girls.

"Neville, HURRY!" Hermione urged him on with a harsh, yet shaking yell.

It was all he needed to react, one of those angered screams that had always terrified, and ashamed him. With a speed only he could gather when receiving the urgent message of his friend and companion, Neville vanished through the round hole in the wall. The Fat Lady was now an immobile picture drawn in oils, and the five decided to put it aside in order of an easier entrance to their chambers.

"What do you think might have happened to her?" Ginny inquired, now her impetuosity and annoy cooled to leave place to an increasing worry.

"I don't know Ginny, I don't know!" Hermione responded, staring blankly at the gap out of which had vanished Neville.

Ron raised his brown eyes to meet, out of his expectations or his mild, weak desires, an unknown figure, or rather unrecognizable. It was a slender man of a medium height, with thin, dry lips, and a sleek jaw. And that was as far as he could scrutinize with his gaze. The man before him was dressed in a black coat, hanging down to his ankles, and covering his face to the sparkling eyes was a hoof that allowed him as much as to see what was before him.

"Who…Who are you?" inquired Ron desperately, glaring at the man warningly, and clenching his fists ready to strike if necessary.

"I'm a friend!" the man said moving uncomfortably, noticing the hesitation of the creature before him.

"Why are you not afraid of me? Or surprised at least?" inquired the red haired boy with a nervous glance at himself, showing his tan hands as the most critical prove of his condition.

"I have seen worse than a poor boy growing a furry tail and ears!" the man said with a dry chuckle, his voice seemed hoarse, as if it had not been used in a very long time.

"What am I?" Ron inquired again, his hesitation towards the man gone as his body was dominate by his thirst of knowledge.

"I don't have the answers to your questions, but I have the ways of helping you for the time being!" the man answered in the same hoarse voice.

"Then help me, make me change back!" Ron snapped standing up and gripping the man's cloak, a pleading gaze glinted in his eyes, mixing with the tears that began to flow again, the young voice breaking.

"Magick is disappearing, and I no longer hold the power to perform complicated spells. I can't assure it but I believe that the unfortunate events that encircle the disappearance of Magick might have affected you somehow!" the cloaked figure pointed out, clearing his voice violently.

"Wait a minute, you are a wizard?" The boy exclaimed startled at the realization of the previous words.

"I was a wizard, a long time ago!" the figure said with a profound nostalgia attacking his soul, tearing him inside and making him wince miserably.

"I don't think I can understand it!" Ron muttered sadly referring to his previous words, looking down defeated and letting go of his grip on the calm figure.

"You will, I promise. You only have to find the person that bears the answers to your questions!" the man explained sighing profoundly, as if missing his very own answers to his troubled existence.

"What am I to do now? I can't walk around with this appearance and pretend nothing is happening!" the boy yelled anxiously at the man.

"Goodness Ron, use your imagination! Here, use this!" the man sighing defeated tossed at the boy a long, black coat like his own and a cap.

"I'm not going around with this! I'll look ridiculous!" the boy snapped glaring at the black clothes with disdain.

"Fine, just show your tail around! Whichever you like for that matter!" the man, exasperated at this point, snapped angrily, turning around on his heels to depart.

"Fine!" Ron exclaimed angrily, and giving in he dressed on the long coat and put on the cap to hide the furry ears.

It was then that he realized various things, dashing through his brain like a lightning, illuminating his ideas. The first one, and the most grave one for that matter was that he was late for his exam, which was very disturbing. However the doubt that stood out as more extraordinary was the one that lacked importance, in a way.

"Wait, how do you know…!" he began questioning, hence realized the mysterious man had vanished, apparently, into thin air, "…my name!"

The day, apart from the mysterious and unnatural events that accused Ron, should have been peaceful and pleasant, one tranquil day to a university student on exams. Ron would have wanted to do that exam and then race home and see if he could gather the last remains of Magick of his want to try remove the tail, black nose and furry ears. What he didn't know was that his problems had barely begun.

On his rushed way towards the station people stared at him. He felt uncomfortable but knew well it was only due to his ridiculous choice of a black, Matrix style coat and the intense red cap. It was not a pleasant mix, and made him look startling in a laughable way. However his attention was focused on two things, the train he had to pick and the possible presence of the cloaked figure in the surroundings of the station, or perhaps inside it.

His efforts were pointless, the figure had vanished for good. Only once he had thought he saw the mysterious figure, until he realized upon a closer and more accurate view that it was a gothic styled teenager smoking something with a pleasant, calming odour. The boy then wondered himself upon his very accurate senses, the scent recognizing the contents of a bag before he even saw it, the hearing being able to listen to whispered conversations metres away from him, almost as clearly as if they were yelling at his ears. Leaving aside his prejudice against his animalistic features, Ron began to see the advantages of his newly acquired weapons. They could be very useful indeed to survive in the terrible world he had to live.

"I don't think I have ever ran this much in my life!" gasped Ron, trying to inhale in as much air as possible through ragged breaths.

He was running past Universitarian City, having left the underground with urgent speed. He gasped at the strong shots of burning pain that ignited his lungs, flaming needles penetrating the soft, venous skin and muscle, tearing him with cruel fangs and claws. Boiling sweat ran past his skin, making it shine in a copperish tone, the black coat roasting his skin under the hot, summer climate. A hand rested upon his cap to maintain it in place, not risking loosing his disguise now that he could, finally, achieve some normality in the ways a former Wizard could understand it.

Ron leapt past the door and stormed inside the enormous examination room. The students were all seated, yet chatting animatedly, various gazing forwards nervously, pale and on the verge of tears, or about to faint. Silence flooded the room as he appeared through the door, entering violently, shaky, dressed on a ridiculous mixture of Dumb Boy, Neo and Hannibal Lecter due to a strategical, medical mask he had placed to cover his humid, black nose and sharp fangs.

Ron cowered slightly, feeling intimidated by the murmuring people, the fixed eyes placed sharply upon him, and the slight chuckles that became audible through the dense silence, tearing it without consideration. But the worst was the severe glance from his professor, a cranky old woman with short, silver hair and hard features who had a dangerous resemblance to professor McGonagall in severity with the cruel humour of professor Snape.

"Well Mr Weasley, you have made it in time, I see, how did you do it? Did the Holy Spirit come down and bring you here?" the woman snapped tearing her black eyes from him to focus on her choice of papers, doubtlessly the exams.

"I had some problems coming here!" Ron said ashamed, demonstrating it by lowering his head passively.

A gasp caught his attention, and he couldn't help but look up at the row of students, now recovering their animated chitchat, and some doing a last hour studying, reminding him so much of Hermione. But that was not of his attention now, but the pale girl who was on the train, one of his class companions, someone with a terrific resemblance to a girl he remembered seeing a long time ago.

"That is not surprising, tell me something new for a change, that old excuse is becoming monotonous and repetitive!" the woman snapped never tearing he eyes from the block of papers.

"May I sit?" inquired Ron sighing to himself, the presence of this professor becoming as unbearable as Snape's.

"What? You are planning on doing my exam dressed as a mime?" inquired the professor glaring at Ron as if he was some specimen of insect that had to be exterminated.

"Er…!" Ron shrugged, nodding shyly, hence starting to suffer some nervous convulsions at the thought of revealing himself to the hundred or so students present in the room.

"Of course, tomorrow I'll come in skiing suit to match yours, don't worry, but for today you are to take of that cap, coat and mask!" snapped the professor, returning her attention to the papers she was so accurately and tenderly ordering.

"Er, I suffer allergies?" Ron commented in a timid, low voice that was more a pointless attempt to convince the woman into letting him conserve his dignity.

"I know you students have allergy to exams, but that isn't a good excuse to engulf yourself into such clothes!" snapped the professor, now getting frustrating, hence visibly never running out of her spicy and smart responses.

"But professor…!" began the boy in a last, desperate attempt to convince the severe woman into letting him do the exam without leaving his coat aside.

"Listen Ron, you are NOT doing the exam like that, understood? Get rid of those things, or leave this room with a zero!" snapped the woman, now dim of patience and visibly angered at the boy's insistence.

Ron stared at the students, once again interested in the ongoing events. His eyes landed upon the girl, the very familiar girl, someone who inspired him anger, frustration, not close to disdain but a similar feeling of fury. And he knew who she was, she recognize the face, not her face but the fact that she was close to someone he had known well and gotten to despise slightly.

"Marietta! Marietta! You and I are One against the Dark Mark!" yelled all of a sudden the boy, pleading her to speak up for him.

The girl gasped startled. She had recognized the boy long ago, but attempted not to be seen by him, trying hard to blend in with the Muggles, never wanting to reawaken the horror lived during the terrible months that lasted the war. And now she could no longer hide. She tried shaking her head, she attempted to let him know she didn't recognize him, she ignored the meaning of his words, but he was hard headed and would not give up so easily.

"Enough Weasley, leave this room!" snapped the woman, not wanting the order of her exam to be disrupted by this sort of a metaphorical clown.

"Marietta, you know what I have, and I know you have it too! The DA, Marietta, the DA!" snapped the youngest of the Weasley boys, pointing at the side of his pants where he hid the precious want, last connection with the magical world.

"No!" vocalized Marietta trying to let him know she didn't want to have any more closeness with the world that had become her life and her agony.

"Weasley, to the rector's office, NOW!" the professor snapped seeing with maddening eyes how the semi adults began laughing uncontrollably at the hilarious situation represented by the ridiculously dressed boy.

Ron, against his will, left tamely, yet casting a look of deception and sadness towards the girl who had been former student of Hogwarts, friend to Cho Chang, and girl who had told Umbridge the situation of the DA headquarters.

Ron could have easily left to evade the talk with the University Rector. However he had grown out of his childish behaviour and grown into a more mature one, nearing an adult's but not reaching it completely as traces of Ron children still lit his soul. He paced past the long corridors with strong, secure steps, a valiant gaze igniting in his nervous, chestnut eyes.

"Why is this happening? Why do things have to be this way? Oh, it would have been so much easier at Hogwarts!" Ron thought as his eyes scanned the maps and signs, automatically seeking for the office.

His unanswered questions would hang in the air, and his meditations would reach no theory yet as his attention was called towards the door that stood before him. It was a door of a dirty white colour, the paint seemed to be peeling off, and nests of unidentified insects crawled between the remains of such paint. On it hanged a clear sing that read "Bernard Tabstinge: Rector" . Ron, taking in a deep breath, knocked on the door with calm, passive touches that were audible enough to be heard inside, yet not violent and frustrating. A calm voice filled with curiosity answered from the inside, and Ron proceeded to turn the handle (carefully as not to touch the bug bulges) and penetrate inside the chambers. The gentle, dim light of a flame lit his features, making his skin look darker, more copper like than it was already. The boy's eyes widened surprised.

"This isn't…this is, this is…" Ron gasped with an strangled knot on his throat, gazing intently at the whole room, passing briefly past the figure sitting on a rolling chair, its back to him.

To Be Continued…

AN: Ok, what is the room like? Who is the mysterious cloaked figure? What happened to Lavender? And why is Marietta so hesitant towards Ron? Ok, that might be because he is a fox boy, or something like that. Don't worry, all those questions and Ron's questions, and what happened to Magick will be answered on its time. Please, read and review, I'm liking the way this story is turning out.


	4. Knowledge of Truth

"This is what?" inquired the man sitting on the chair, his voice gentle, calm and full of knowledge.

Ron remained silent for a few minutes, admiring the room. It was circular, the walls were made out of enormous boulders, nothing similar to the austere white paint that covered the university's walls. Perched on metal rings were various torches and candles of the most painteresque shapes and colours, all of them igniting with a comforting and calid flame. Covering the wall with a colourful ring were situated the pictures of various characters, some of which Ron recognized only mildly. The figures were as steady as they had ever been, silent like the oil portraits they were. Before him was a table, a very simple, wooden table, decorate profusely with the presence of the most unimaginable items. This items, once delighting the wonders of his curiosity by the impossible movements, were now still and steady like the pictures. And on one side, silent, almost depressively, was a bird perch, empty. And to his right, towering before him was a glass cupboard, containing also various items of unknown properties. A ragged old hat called his attention, and a pang of painful nostalgia and sadness filled him upon observing this too lacked the motion if once had.

"This is Hogwarts!" Ron murmured mostly to himself, reaffirming with a quiver of hope in his voice the possibility of such crazy affirmation.

"Exactly, young Weasley!" the man on the rolling chair turned around to face him.

He smiled broadly at the surprised boy, that grin of his that illuminated the darkest corners. His pale eyes glinted with a knowledge and mischief that only belonged to him. Basically, he was an old man, older than anyone can remember, with a long, silver beard to match his equally long, silver hair. Dressed on an intense purple, wizard robes, the old man gazed at the boy with the tender look of a father to a son.

"Professor Dumbledore!" gasped Ron utterly surprised at the presence of the old man…in his very own office.

"Hello to you too!" the man said with a broken chuckle, obvious sign of his old age.

"How…why, what am I doing here? I mean, I was far away at the university, and then…!" Ron began explaining in a rushed voice, accumulating more questions by the second, hushing abruptly when the respectable, old man raised his palm to silent him.

"You were seeking answers, and I brought you here with the last bits of Magick that remain in essence." Professor Dumbledore explained calmly, crossing his fingers and wincing slightly.

"In essence!" Ron was, if more, visibly shocked at the incoherent affirmation.

"Yes, in essence, all Wizards have magick latent inside themselves, but it's a very small amount. Magical creatures bear the greatest fountain of essential magick in the whole world, excluding, that is, our, now gone, spring of magick!" Dumbledore started again with his explanations.

"But the magical creatures are disappearing as well!" Ron snapped pointing out the terrible obvious.

"Ah, the fact that we can no longer hide them from humans doesn't mean they can't fend off by themselves!" the gentle, old man pointed out calmly, and wisely.

"I see, well, I came to get responses! Please, tell me everything I need to know about myself!" Ron snapped eagerly, pulling off the mask to show the fangs and humid, dark nose.

"Ah well, as for what you are, you are an Anthro!" Dumbledore finished his explanation clear and slowly, yet leaving Ron in the same oblivion he was before entering the room.

"Fine!" Ron snapped frustrated, now feeling a shower of questions bombarding his senses until he began feeling numb and confused, "how did I become this thing without magick? Why now?" the boy snapped again, vocalizing his questions as clearly as his shaky voice could.

"First, you did not become anything, you were already like that when you were born!" the professor finished clearly and calmly, speaking in the enigmatic way he was always used, leaving the expectation hanging in the air.

Ron stared at him blankly, all his inquiries vanished abruptly at the crazy remark he had received from the man. Dumbledore, upon seeing the look in his former pupil's eyes, went on.

"The vanishing of magick has a lot to do with it, indeed. I'll explain, the same as there are Methamorphmagus and Squibs, there are sometimes that a Wizard baby is born with animal traits, which is your case. Your specie is as scarce as the Methamorphmagus, or more, and most of the time you will not even get to see them in their true form." Dumbledore explained with a calm voice, letting all the new information sink in before going on.

"Your mother, like many Anthro's mothers, did what was best for you, she hid your animal traits under a powerful and effective charm, and planned on waiting until you were old enough to tell you about your gift!" Dumbledore finished his explanation with a respectful sigh.

"Gift? What gift? This is a curse, I am no human, I have a furry tail, furry ears and a leaky nose which mysteriously became black!" snapped the boy infuriated at the man's remark.

"Ron, nothing is a curse unless you want it to be! You have more agility now, gained in speed, discovered your acute hearing and scent, and that could be a powerful weapon if the case reclaimed it!" Dumbledore pointed out, that glint in his pale eyes becoming more accused.

"Fine!" Ron muttered in a fowl mood, crossing his arms angrily.

"Well, why did your true form got revealed now is simple. When magick began to vanish, the spells conjured did as well!" Dumbledore pointed a significant, nostalgic gaze at the room engulfing them, "And so did your mother's spell, releasing you of the disguise!"

"Oh, just great! Just when I was finally achieving normality!" Ron snapped exasperated at his incoherent situation glaring sideways and clenching his fists tightly.

"As for the vision you saw!" began speaking the wise, old man, smiling at him through that glint of his pale eyes.

"What? How do you know?" inquired Ron, his anger flickered and died, floating away with the wind, his curious eyes looked up inquiringly.

"Ah, the mysteries of magick! Anyways, the thing is it was not just a vision. Likely when your body was changing back, your mind got connected with the world of spirits. Unfortunately, the white spirit you saw is a demon who has arrived to our physical world, and is about to create havoc." Explained Dumbledore, his calm features had suddenly turned grave and worried, his glinting eyes were covered by a murky veil of darkness.

"What? Why me? What am I to do?" snapped Ron, now frustrated at his situation, at the twist the things were taking in such a short lap of time.

"Calm Ron, you don't have to play the hero, however the spirit seems to have chosen you as his main focus, not literally, but will do all he can to hurt those you love!" Dumbledore explained again, more gravely than before and gazing at Ron with a seriousness that told him this man was stronger than he would ever be.

"There is little people left alive that he can hurt, you know?" commented Ron sombrely, looking down sideways, being flooded by the happy, smiling faces of those he once loved with all his might.

"Oh, but there is still someone, right Ronald?" pointed out the man with that mischievous glint of someone who knows much.

Ron gazed down. He knew who Dumbledore was speaking about. But it had been too long since they had any contact at all. They didn't fight or anything, but their enormous loss filled them with an unbearable grief, and they parted away, taking different paths. He thought many times they took the wrong paths, simply because he was the peasant, and she was the studious bookworm. Yes, he knew, and had hoped so many times she was happy and healthy wherever she was.

"Anyways!" continued the old man with a profound sigh, "when you linked with the world of spirits, and returned back to the real world, the connection between your spiritual self and your physical body left a gap in the frontier that divides both words. It was small, but the spirit escaped through it and emerged into our world!" Dumbledore finished, shaking his head lastimously.

"But how do you know all that?" snapped Ron, his ridiculous question in such an exaggeratedly exasperated voice was basically a cover to hide the truth that loomed in the corner of his mind.

"You will understand soon enough Ron, it's not good revealing all the fun on the first encounter, now is it?" commented the old man, smiling delighted and gazing at the young boy through noble eyes.

Ron simply gazed at him with disbelief. He could not understand why he was being held away from so many truths, after all, he was no longer a child, and was no longer frightened of darkness, not after all the terror he had seen.

"That means we will meet again?" commented Ron mostly due to the fact that he was at a loss for words.

"Ah, well, we have met again, and I'm sure you never thought you'd see me again, now did you?" explained the man hopefully, smiling at the boy through his intelligent eyes.

"No!" Ron admitted truthfully, hence lowering his head in shame.

"Now go!" Dumbledore urged the boy, looking at the magical door that had been conjured to permit the long interview.

Ron turned to look at the door, which had began to flicker dangerously, loosing its strength and magick. It would vanish in brief instants, leaving him trapped in Hogwarts. It would not have been a terrible situation, and deep inside him Ron had hoped Dumbledore would inst him to stay. Deceived slightly, that had not occurred, hence deduced the wise old man always did things with a good reason. With such personal argument Ron raced towards the door, and was about to cross it when he stopped, suddenly conditioned by a sharp question that attacked him on the last instant.

"Professor!" began the boy turning his head to face the man, "Who was the cloaked figure that helped me at the park?" Ron inquired deducing that this should be a fact that his professor knew.

"Who?" inquired Dumbledore arching his eyebrows bewildered.

Confusion filled the boy upon analyzing the truthful features representing Dumbledore's real oblivion. There was something the old man ignored, and that would have him occupied for long moments. Ron, deceived by the response, turned around and vanished through the door, appearing back in his college.

The three horses were ready in just a few minutes, hence the skills and constant practice as caretaker of the beasts. Saletta was a beautiful andalusian, her high spirits beings demonstrated in the constant and nervous tossing of her head, and the eager stomping of the delicate, slender hooves. She was knowing in the stables as the Blue Doe, hence her elegant and slender figure, the thin, strong legs, and the incredible agility made her seem like a magnificent stag. Her coat glistened in the twilight in a deep, shady blue colour, splashed everywhere with drops of pale white or silver. Her appereance was of a horse who had been covered in ashes and was caught in the fresh, morning rain.

Balkan, on the other hand, was the contrary from the beautiful mare. He was not envious of her beauty, for he had one impressive structure and image that was far more stunning than the mare's. He was a Friesian, and wild horse from the celts. Larger in height and far thicker, his strong and fibrous muscles rippled under a thick coat of blazing, black fur. His enormous hooves were covered in threads of long, black hair that fell upon them like a cascade. The thick head was engraved with a pair of black, intelligent eyes which gazed at the forest with a defiant, valiant gaze as well as one filled of tremor and unease towards the darkness that lingered inside.

Bankara, Ginny's favourite, was a nervous pureblood. Her coat was a deep brown, hence it was cared and glossy, sparkling into a flaming colour under the fresh light, matching closely to Ginny's own igniting head. Being basically a colt, and the smallest in size, she was also the quickest of all three, having been born in a hippodrome from a mother who had been a champion brought to nothing. Her youth sparkled in the glitter that shone deep in her brown eyes, the same defiant gaze as the one sent by the powerful Balkan. However, this time her call was not of courage, instead she just wanted to prove to herself that she could outrun the evil germinating inside the woodlands.

"Take care of Whisper, heal his leg and leave him in his box, NO efforts! His ankle is in pretty bad conditions!" ordered Hermione severely, holding the reins tightly and leaping up the saddle with accustomed agility.

Neville lowered his head submissively, and nodded, giving Saletta an affective pat on the neck. The mare shook nervously upon feeling the weight, and neighed with a slight fear blooming within her instinctive senses. Hermione leaned forward lightly, holding the reins tightly with one hand, and patting the mare on the left side of the neck, attempting to calm her. She never knew why the horses always had such a reaction towards her, but every time she mounted even the tamest one for the first time, it would always try to throw her off its back.

"Lets go then!" Hermione bellowed at the other two girls.

The former witch pushed her right leg slightly further behind, while she lowered the right rein gently. In such position her feet pressed against the mare's sides tightly while she purred lightly to make her more uneasy. The animal stood on her hind legs for various seconds, then leapt forward into a wild gallop. Balkan mounted expertly by the hazy Luna followed with a much heavier step, agile and elegant still. Bankara galloped as soon as Saletta stood off, shaking Ginny on her chair and making her stumble lightly at the eagerness of the creature. The Weasley girl pulled on the right rein with short, dry touches, making the colt calm down slightly and easier to control. This was no race, and no fun on the woodlands, and by no means she wanted to pass Hermione and make the two riders have a hard time controlling their horses.

The three creatures crossed the meadow and penetrated the woodlands with the energy only this magnificent equines could posses. Neville watched the trio retreat, his heart was heavy and his mind was a whirlpool of contradictory thoughts. He wanted to be of help, but his gone youth and his experience in the terrible war had not seemed to make him much more skilful. He always observed Ginny and Luna with a hint of sane jealousy, wanting to encounter himself in the body of the red haired, or even into the passive skills of the loony being.

With a profound, nostalgic sigh, he turned his back towards the forest and walked off to the place where the white stallion had been found, wounded yet valiantly standing. He shook his head furiously, even a horse was far more useful than he was, being able to gallop all the way here, limp and immersed in a terrible pain. He had not had time to examine his hoof and ankle, but it was most probably broken and had a bad healing. It was not in them sacrificing horses because they had broken legs, but they knew this animal would never be able to be submitted to much effort any more.

Upon reaching the site, Neville gasped loudly. The horse was gone.

Ron walked out of the office feeling perplexed and very confused. He had figured out half of his problem, but upon realizing what he was, a cascade of innumerable questions fell upon him with the strength of a landslide. He had suddenly activated inquiries he ignored he could have, being his nature always so passive and uninterested.

"That was before!" Ron argued with himself shaking his head sadly, almost frustrated, and feeling a knot in the pit of his stomach, "that was the old Ron, the one before all that miserable event!" his thoughts faded at this point, making him clench his hands into tight fists.

The boy felt a hand pulling something over his nose. He hadn't even realized it, but his mask had been pulled down upon entering the office, revealing his animal traits. His vision, although his chestnut eyes had been open, was gazing into the past, into a time long gone, and into the had been, and the what could had been. He focused his vision, blurry for brief seconds of time, and adjusted himself to the person before him by taking a step back in order to see the shorter creature clearly.

"Marietta!" he gasped, ignoring whether he was amazed, deceived or angered at the girl, or maybe all three at once.

"You better be more careful with that!" she pointed out in a low whisper, looking around at the empty corridor for passerbys and possible hearing ears.

"What are you doing here?" inquired the boy now deciding he was startled at her presence.

"I was looking for you, Ron, I wanted to explain everything!" she said in a dashed voice, as if the message was too urgent and too secret to be revealed later or close to anyone who could eavesdrop on them.

"What for?" Ron snapped harshly, letting his anger and his spirits emerge for some instants.

"Look!" Marietta began recoiling slightly at the hint of fury released by the boy, "I don't know what happened to you, but I believe it has something to do with what happened to Magic and all." She commented calmly, regaining her integrity.

"Oh, really? I would have never guessed!" Ron said sarcastically staring at the girl with mischievous eyes.

"I didn't back you up at the examination hall, and I wanted to apologize for my actions, and also explain why I did what I did." The girl began staring at the boy defiantly.

"Go on!" Ron said feeling suddenly very stupid and very guilty.

"What happened so many years ago was terrible for me, and for everyone in the world. I still relive those days in my nightmares, and wake up wet in cold sweat, seeking my want and ready to cast a curse at anyone who approaches me. I killed people, maybe they deserved it, but I was seventeen at the time, and my child hands were stained with blood." Marietta's voice broke into desperation, her sharp features emphasizing the terror and the pain that still pursued her.

"I know!" Ron said lowering his head, understanding her for this dreams, and the sticky sensation of being covered in the crimson fluid of enemies killed by his own hands also sneaked behind the shadows of his dreams.

"I really appreciate you Ron, you are one of the few remaining links I have with the Wizardring World, and I had wonderful times at Hogwarts. But Ron, all that is gone! My wand and yours is fading day after day, Hogwarts is abandoned, magic disappears and the survivors go on with their lives, with new lives. That is what I am trying to do, Ron, forge my own future as a muggle, and keep only the precious moments that marked my life for good." Marietta finished, her voice had broken, and her face glowed with the torrent of tears which flowed down his cheeks, staining his face with a glittering film.

"I…I know Marietta, I'm sorry!" Ron felt terrible for making this to the last remaints of his past, "I just needed help, I'm suddenly alone with some problem I can't understand fully, and I guess you were the only one I could rely on right now, the one who was closest to magic!" Ron apologized greatly, letting all his frustration pour.

"Ron, we can be good friends, and I will always talk with you. Remember the old times will be fine!" Marietta grinned at this remark, brightening her face lightly, "but Ron, always here, in this world, in the only world that exists now, ok? No more magic and no more tricks! I want to be normal to the eyes of people here, I want to lead a normal life!" Marietta finished, staring at the boy seriously, and making him understand her desires.

Ron nodded, but pronounced no word. He understood her desired due to the fact that he had also desired the same, and had lead her life, hence much more immersed in the anonymities. With that, Marietta retreated and vanished upon turning a corner. He allowed some time to pass since her departure, then walked away as well.

The three beings stomped on the ground, tearing it with their powerful hooves, lifting the soils and penetrating the moss with the sharp edges. They did nothing but destroy and renew the carpet of greens and mud, following the destruction of one of their mates. Hermione had followed one of the principal paths and had found nothing out of the ordinary, except several old prints. She deduced immediately that the girl had been careful and patient with the horse, keeping him always at a light pace. Soon however, she had found like a slight struggle, as if the animal or the rider was confused, and didn't know with way to go. It also seemed as if the decision had to be taken rapidly. Then the trail began.

A being groaned in the depths of the forest, feeling weak, feeling battered as of someone had decided to beat it up into a bloody pulp. The body was, however, in perfect conditions, completely nude however. Every single inch ached as if numerous needles of fire were going through the pale skin, always coming in and out, moving back and forth inside the milky veil, releasing a sharper and more unbearable pain. It heard the sound of horses approaching and retreated under the cover and protection of some thick bushes. It had thorns but under such terrible suffering, it mattered little to the creature. The three animals passed by, ignoring the presence, but the life hiding could see the three riders properly.

"Ginny!" it gasped in a hoarse, broken and tired voice.

Hermione sat back on her saddle, then pulled on the reins several times with strong and dry pulls. Saletta came to a full halt and neighed rather wildly, as if disagreeing with the decision her rider had taken. The other two horses also stopped close to the leading mare. All three riders hopped off with natural and expert ability. The horses, released from the comforting weight that supposed their confidence, tossed their heads and snorted nervously. They scented something foul, something dangerous, it was rancid and metallic, it was the fearsome scent of blood.

"Stay with the horses Luna, keep them calm, we don't want to be thrown here in the middle of nowhere!" Hermione told her, she tried to be strong and calm, but she was shaky and nervous.

Said that, and receiving the affirmative nod of the woman, Hermione walked forward, followed closely by Ginny. Her legs were wobbly like jelly, her face drained of all colour, pale like a ghost, and her mind a mantra desiring only the best that could be decided in those cases. Hermione and Ginny leapt over a log to encounter the terrible vision, basically nothing they could have expected, and definitely nothing like they had ever seen, which had been much unfortunately. Ginny, upon seeing the state of the girl, attempted to emit some sort of yelp hence her voice had been stolen, faded from her throat at the terrible shock.

Lavender was face to ground, or so they thought since it was hard to determine whether that was her face or the back of her head. She had been literally massacred. Her body was stained in the largest amount of blood Hermione had ever seen. It had marks of claws, and bites of enormous fangs, and it seemed as if the being that had caught sight of her decided to release all the contained fury over her.

"This was not an animal!" Ginny said finally upon finding her voice.

"What?" gasped Hermione snapping out of her ecstasy by the familiar voice reaching her through the tense silence of the forest.

"No animal would ever attack with such cruelty, with such vice! Only humans do such things!" Ginny exclaimed with the anger and fury of the Weasleys igniting within her heart and blood.

"Let's cover her with the quilt, we will take her to the castle and give her the funeral she deserves!" Hermione was not to enter in an argument about their friend being attacked by a predator or a human, and let Ginny know by the dry tone of her voice.

Said that, Ginny gave in to the sadness and broke into tears. Lavender had grown to be solitary, always in the company of her beloved horse, but they had maintained long, refreshing conversations about nothing at all, only delighting themselves in each other's company. They soon became good friends, and soon became the pillar of the other to keep standing, to get through the pain of their catastrophe more easily. Hermione saw her, and would have embraced her, but her very own doubts, her sadness and the shadows of her mind paralyzed her. She patted Ginny's shoulder, and proceeded to do the work by herself, not wanting to give Ginny more suffering. Sure, she also had her own deal of pain, but had grown to the strong, protective type, more than weeping over the terrors that attacked her nightmares.

Ron opened the door of his small apartment and entered. He sighed with relief and got rid of the coat, the hat and the mask as if he had bees inside them. He was boiling, the coat was black and absorbed the heat, and they were nearly in summer. It was a relief to let the air cool his tan skin and his furry tail, hence his delight was not to last long. There, in his very own house, was the most unlike vision he would have ever expected.

To Be Continued…

AN: Ok, very LONG chappy, and took me longer to finish cuz I've been a week at Edimburgh. Anyways, I like the way it is turning, and I have a surprise for the end, a surprise for the middle, and a surprise for the middle end. Can you find out what has Ron found in his apartment? Try to guess, and find out the answer in the next chapter. Please, review, makes me happy to see what people think.


	5. The Rider and the Hassasin

Silent and strong wings flapped nervously and excitedly. White feathers leapt here and there wildly. A bright, greyish beak clipped and clicked with interest. A pair of amber eyes, large like two big oranges, examined the fox boy with a mixture between a natural interest and surprise. A pair of clawed legs stepped on his table with a firm grip.

"Hedwig!" gasped Ron, pouncing forward to take a hold of the owl.

He saw a piece of parchment rolled up on the owl's leg. At first he was basically startled at this event, not because of the fantastic and unnatural appearance of an owl carrying mail, but due to the fact that this was happening just now, when wizards where a thing of the past. Ron was oblivious as to who the writer of the letter could be, obviously not Harry, he was long gone, but where did Hedwig come from? The boy unrolled the parchment and opened it, patting the owl gently.

"Dear Ron" Now he recognized the neat and clear writing, although slightly unruly and rushed, it still could only belong to one person.

"I know it has been long since we last met. I can't say I haven't missed you, because I have, but things are just not the same they where before. You might be wondering why I am writing, right?"

"I am wondering a load of things right now!" gasped Ron thinking aloud, and receiving an urging hoot from the female prey bird.

"Well, it is simple. Strange things have been going on lately. It might surprise you, but yesterday night Lavender went out for a walk, and the next day we found her horse injured, and she was dead. She had been attacked by some creature because her body was literally slain!" Ron observed that the writing in this two sentences was more shaky, as if the hand that was representing those thoughts was trembling.

"I know it is a strange request, but I believe you and I, together again, can solve the mystery. Maybe it's only the fact that I need a real friend with me right now, don't get me wrong, your sister is a great friend, but I need you! I don't know how you are going to do it, but please, try to get to Hogwarts as soon as you can.

Love.

Hermione"

Ron gasped, shaky. That spirit Dumbledore was speaking about had murdered Lavender. Hermione, his sister, anyone could be next! He felt so useless and so guilty at that very moment that his world was blurry and his vision darkened. An angered hoot from the large owl brought him back to reality, and he stared at the female thoughtfully.

"What can I do Hedwig? I can't get there with this looks!" the boy inquired, expanding his arms like wings to accentuate the presence of his animalistic features.

The owl simply gazed at him as if saying "use your imagination!", eyes narrowed and chest inflated.

"Yeah, what am I to tell her? I've got allergy or something?" snapped Ron angrily, unconsciously baring the small fangs that had grown in his mouth.

Hedwig simply stared at him, her looks seemingly saying "precisely!", although the boy was not so sure about that idea. He would comply however, and he knew that. It was not only the fact that he wanted to see Hermione with all his might, but also the fact that she was in danger, and refused to loose the little that had remained after the war.

"OK!" Ron said suddenly, throwing his hands to the air in a giving in manner.

"Dear Hermione. I'm coming!" his answer was brief, but he had much to do before his departure, and didn't want to flow his feelings upon a piece of parchment. Hedwig flew away content, although magic was gone the owl seemed to have a natural intelligence.

Ron trashed about the house, seeking into the wardrobes, pulling out every item contained in them.

"Whoa! I didn't even think I had this!" he wondered himself at a small action figure of Spiderman.

The boy lifted his bed clothes and looked under it, between the mattress and under the pillow. He then pulled the bed away from the wall, relying completely on a very brief intuition, and one very accurate at that since he found that which made his house become a battlefield.

"There it is!" he held the item up like a trophy he had just received.

It was his old broom. Dusty and tore here and there, the branches were just bent the wrong way, the once polished wood was now opaque, lacking all glow, and had deep gashes here and there from various collisions. From the looks of it there was a minuscule chance of putting the precious item into flight, or at least having a long, secure trip. However, Ron had to try, because without the platform 9 ¾ or the Hogwarts Express in function there were very little chances of getting to the castle in time.

"Well, here goes nothing!" Ron sighed staring at the broom with a look of mistrust.

"You are doing this for Hermione, you know you are!" he told himself like a mantra while situating his right leg over the other side of the handle such that the broom remained between his legs.

A swift, strong kick on the floor, and the broom began to stumble upwards. Ron began to feel the lack of magic on his precious item, feeling the comfortable cushion had almost faded, leaving the hard wood to contact his backside. Groaning rather loudly, and rolling his eyes, Ron maintained the broom as steady as he could.

"This will be a long journey!" he thought remembering depressively the accident with his father's Ford Anglia on the beginning of his second grade.

With those thoughts, Ron swooped past the window expertly, and flew up rapidly, avoiding as much as he could to be seen by the unsuspecting muggles. Unfortunately, luck was not to be his companion on this desperate journey, for just as he exited his window and old woman was on the front building watering her plants, and a girl was smoking a cigar just two windows higher. Both pointed at the unbelievable vision while considering their mental state.

"Crap, why did I have to choose a first floor?" Ron groaned, slapping his forehead with his right hand.

Just as he did so, the broom stumbled left and right, threatening to loose stability and fall. Immediately, and with alarm, the boy took a firm grip on the handle, and swore not to let it loose in the whole trip. That would tire him more, but at least he was almost safe, as long as the magic didn't fail right now. Ron leaned forward and gained a much higher speed. He raised until he was sure people would mistake him for a plane, heck, cars at this height looked like little ants. Then it was just forward, and he knew the way, he had done it flying various times, on a car, a thestral, and his very own broom several times during the terrible war.

The wind shook his tail and his red hair, raising the black coat until the new appendices was visible. He breathed in the refreshing air, and let it penetrate his lungs, cooling his blood. The journey seemed to be promising, but Ron knew better than to rely on first impressions, for the sun was high, and even at such speeds the air was bound to heat and inflate greatly.

Indeed, it was not long until his body was pearled in sweat. Drops of salt trickled his forehead. His knuckles were white from the force and pressure he was maintaining on the handle, and he could feel the palms wet and sticky already. The sun's potency harmed his eyes and made them itchy and teary, blurring his vision and making him almost collide against an unfortunate hawk. The heat became unbearable in little time, a period of a couple of hours, and his tongue lolled out, and dripped dehydration from time to time.

"This will definitely be a long journey!" he deduced with an exhausted gasp, licking his dry lips with a thick tongue.

Ron welcomed the fall of the day, dusk was the time when temperatures began to lower into a much cooler and comfortable weather. The sun tinted the sky into flaming tones of red, orange, pink and violet, and a cool summer breeze blew. The boy raised his head slightly to enjoy the welcoming slap of the lower temperature hitting his face, dry tongue and aching eyes. His muscles ached from the effort of maintaining the unsteady broom on the air, and his legs were numb from the lack of use they were receiving. However the head gone made it easier for him to continue the journey without fainting.

Night had extended the black, velvet veil across the once pale skies of igniting white and pale blue. Stars were splashed here and there, thrown like small jewels of glittering crystal, tossed into a silk blue veil to sparkle in a silent, millenary chat of knowledge. A large moon glowed on the sky, emitting silver rays that tenderly caressed Ron's tan skin, making him feel more comfortable. It wasn't until all those events happened that Ron caught a first glance of the castle.

Immense, strong, powerful, millenary and almost fragile into its own wisdom. It was all of this things at once, although to Ron it represented a full, strong deception that hit him across the stomach painfully. It was just an enormous shadow cut against the darkness, only a sombre spectre of what it used to be. A flickering flame tinted the darkness with tones of orange, yellow and a comfortable, warm illumination. That was the only representation of life it could gather right now, the rest of the building had lost it natural glow and was immersed into the darkness of night, and the silvery rays that attempted hopelessly to raise the colossus back into its glory.

"There it is!" Ron smiled sadly to himself, taking a deep breath of fresh air, and staring with sombre eyes at the place which had once been his home.

With those final thoughts, Ron started the descent. The wind slapped his face harder, almost painfully, the light raced past him like a halo, and the grass became more defined and accurate. The old broom started to shake more violently, and the speed began to increase to an almost uncontrollable state. However, everything was fine, everything was under control, that was until Ron realized some inopportune fact.

"Uh oh!" he gasped in a sharp exclamation, "I forgot how to land!" his yell was like a howl, a terrible, startled and frightened howl at the realization that just dawned upon him.

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Hermione had been pondering about the past events. She gazed at the moon thoughtfully, her sad eyes, or a warm colour, were dull and numb. Her chin rested upon her palm, and her lips were pursed in a faction of depression. She had been distant and silent, attending her classes with her greatest rigor and severity, and working the horses beyond their limits to relieve her own, troubled heart. Today, however, it was different, for her eyes had gained some sparkle, and on her left hand was tightly clutched a piece of yellowish parchment.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione sighed, her mind an ocean of confusion.

It was this time that you begin to ponder about changes, the hair, the style, clothes, will he have grown fat, or thinner, or will he just be the same as always? When it takes you so many years to see a friend, you encounter yourself in this same state, waiting and wondering whether every person that passes by might be your friend. Hermione wondered all of those things, hence she could not deduce his presence into a flood of people, for all that walked past the prairies was the wind and the moon's tender rays.

Suddenly, Hermione stood up straight, tense. Her eyes were staring sharply, studious, at the same spot they had been fixed before, the pale moon. Gears in her mind began to function at full speed as something seemed to be amiss in the horizon. Alarm shook her body, hence, instead of freezing it, the girl began to manipulate some ideas to cause havoc, and obviously situate all the group in safety.

A dark spot seemed to be falling upon her lands. It had an undefined shape, but the wings of a bat seemed to be flapping behind it savagely, and a horn or similar came out of its forehead, or chest, Hermione didn't know. As the wild flier became clearer, Hermione realized that the creature was out of control, and that the horn was the handle of a broom. A muffled yell, dim and numb from the far distance, reached her ears in a hysteric, yet familiar tone, all too familiar.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, barely deducing who the valiant rider of the ancient broom was.

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"How did I land? How did I land? How stupid can I be to forget how to land? It's like forgetting which is the break pedal of your car!" Ron snapped angry with himself

The boy pulled the handle up, steering the broom into a more parallel direction in comparison to the floor, hence reducing speed and avoiding a terrible collision with the floor. Once he had managed that, not with little effort for his muscles were already tired and numb, he glided bordering the lake and the forbidden forest. The moon stared itself on the black surface, but the place had never been as silent and still as it was now. Ron flew over the cottage that had once belonged to the now lost gamekeeper, Hagrid, decreasing in height as he flew. He also saw the place where the greenhouses had been, now occupied by wooden structures of similar size and shape.

He was now in the main esplanade in front of the entrance, which was vast enough to allow him a safe landing, although a harsh one that is. The broom was now shading the grass with the slick, thin figure. Ron lowered his legs and prepared himself to place his feet on the ground. As he did such action, his body was propelled forward. The broom collided with the floor, and he flew, face first, into the ground. The fox boy spinned over himself and landed with his face kissing the grass.

"Aww, crap…" Ron groaned standing up with some effort, caused basically by his numb, tired muscles, more than the hard collision.

Hermione emerged from the main door, and saw the boy already standing, his back to her. He was dressed on a long, black coat, and a red cap that matched nothing with the dark style. The boy seemed to be putting something over his mouth, while dusting the black clothes from all remains of grass and debris. Hermione smiled delighted, happier than she had ever been, seeing that her friend was in perfect shape, or seemed like it.

"Ron!" she called in a loud, delighted scream.

The girl raced towards him and pounced into a tackle, hanging her slim and fibrous figure from the boy's neck. The embrace was tight, full of care, of anxiety, of thirst. Ron had turned around, and was startled at first, ambushed by the woman, dressed in nothing but a short, night gown that was slightly translucid. The boy returned the hug with equal pressure, equal hunger. He closed his eyes and breathed in the woman's scent, sweet smell of nature mixed with a tint of the stronger aroma of equine.

"I've missed you!" Hermione broke the silence, making Ron snap off the trance he had immersed himself into.

"I've missed you too, Hermione!" he said with an eager voice, exhausted but utmost delighted.

"Tell me everything!" the woman said with a broad smile, pulling away and gazing at him from head to feet, "starting with why you are wearing such a ridiculous outfit!" she commented, falling in a fit of giggles.

"You would never believe me if I told you!" Ron groaned, feeling his cheeks flush with a tint of intense crimson, the heat rising upon his face.

"You look more tan, or is it me? I mean, you have always been so pale!" Hermione commented, taking a close look at the deep chestnut of his eyes.

"Actually, that is the problem, I'm kind of allergic to the light, so I have to wear this, so my skin doesn't burn!" Ron said rapidly, a quick voice that was a tone or two higher denoting his tension.

"That might have been a believable excuse had it not been for the scientific fact that tan skins can't be allergic to the sun because of the large amount of melanin found in them. Also there is the fact that it's night so I presume you can take that off, what are you hiding Ron?" Hermione fought back with the weapons she knew best, her own brains, knowledge and wits.

"I'm not hiding anything, take it or leave it Hermione, but I haven't come all the way from London on an old broom only to argue with you." Ron snapped alarmed, his voice was far from hard or angered, but mostly frightened, and Hermione realized that.

"Oh, all right, you are incorrigible after all!" Hermione said placing her arms in jars, and looking apparently serious.

"But.." Ron began, raising a tan finger to make some point clear, one about avoiding arguments, one about their ages, and the past they had ran across together.

"But… I am so glad you have come!" Hermione finished, letting her cherry lips curl in a bright smile, one of pure bliss and delight.

"Herm, I don't want to annoy you or anything, but I have flown all the way from London on an old broom, my butt is kind of achy and my muscles are all tired, I'd appreciate it if you could show me the way to my room!" Ron moaned making his point clear by rubbing the sore arms.

"Oh, of course Ron, but you know the way to your room." Hermione's brown eyes sparkled with a look that seemed a mixture of mischief and delight Ron had never seen in her.

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If he had been told, the Anthro would not have felt worse. There he was, before the spherical entrance to the Gryffindor common room, staring intensely, doubtfully at the sparkling inside. The hot colours of a tentative flame seemed to sparkle in the chimney, and a warm breath blew from inside, calling him. However, Ron's heart shattered upon walking past the well known corridors. No ghosts, no moving pictures, no voices, nothing to remind him of the life that once reigned inside this thick, stone walls. The vision of the Fat Lady had touched him deep inside. He was not specially fond of her, but had grown to accept her eccentric character as part of his own, little world.

"At least you haven't been here to see them all die." Hermione commented in a comforting tone, as well as telling him the horror that was seeing magic fade between her fingers, and that she could do nothing to avoid it.

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"Hermione, you can't be serious!" gasped Ron staring at the enormous creature before him.

"Get on him, Ron, I'm going to teach you how to ride!" Hermione snapped severely, dressed in her ridding suit.

"But Hermione, he is too big, and he doesn't seem to like me!" Ron snapped with pleading eyes, gazing sideways at the enormous, black horse that stood next to him.

Indeed, Ron was not kidding, for the large Freisian horse could scent the fox in the boy's blood, and although not nervous, he was not trusting him much. Hermione had decided that Ron had to learn how to ride, in case he was needed to pursue the spirit that lurked within the woodlands. It was after breakfast, and everyone had been delighted to see him present, and also curious to see him dressed like a gothic with no clear style.

"Absurd Ron, why wouldn't he trust you?" inquired Hermione angrily, pointing at the animal. "Get on him, now!".

"If only you knew!" muttered Ron under his breath, gritting his teeth and fangs, and sending Hermione a nasty look of dislike.

He obeyed however, as much as he disliked the situation he was being forced into. Doing just as he had been explained, the boy placed his right foot over the stirrups. Both hands were firmly placed upon the horse's ridding saddle, and the reins were held short and firm to keep him from moving or stirring. The fox boy impulsed himself upwards, then placed the right leg over the other side of the saddle, sitting over the male freisian.

"See? Now it wasn't that hard, now was it?" inquired Hermione, smiling with her eyes at the awkward boy.

"No, it wasn't specially hard, but I am slightly uncomfortable!" Ron groaned narrowing his eyes rather annoyed at the position he was forced to take.

"Oh, come on Ron, it's like ridding on a broom!" Hermione gasped, glaring at the boy with a slightly annoyed tone.

"Fine, well, if it's that easy, I guess it will work just like a broom then!" Ron commented shrugging, then leaned forward, holding the reins tighter.

Nothing happened, as it was not a command the horse could understand. Instead, Balkan stirred slightly, and placed the weight over his other leg, moving only lightly. The boy glanced at the black stallion with a look of dislike and incoherence.

"It's not like that, let's make it easy for you. Press at the sides of the horse strongly, no kicking, only pressure. Do that with the balls of your feet." Hermione explained calmly, staring at the boy with a look of delight.

Ron did so, and the sensitive horse began to move. It was a short, calm pace, hence the elegance of the beast was so visible. Ron grinned as if it was the first time he had ever flown, his childlish joy was so visible, so bright it illuminated his features such his smile trespassed the white mask.

"Ok, your back straight, I believe we can even gallop on this session!" explained Hermione with a wide grin.

"Gallop? Oh no, not that!" Ron gasped with a sharp breath, staring at the girl as if she was a phantom.

"No? We'll see that!" Hermione said with a malicious smile.

Ron took a firm grip on the male horse's reins, pulling on the bite to keep him steady. The young girl took out the whip and clashed it such that it emitted a loud, dry sound, like a very old twig tearing and falling. It was immediate, and unexpected, the horse stood inches from the ground, his hands only barely feeling the soft sand. Seconds later, the animal had began a calm gallop across the field. Ron was making a great effort to maintain balance, and to attempt to stop him.

"I'll kill you for this Hermione!" he yelled hysterically through his efforts to remain steady on the saddle, his whole body bouncing over it.

"Let your waist loose, and keep the hands steady, reins firm!" explained the professor calling at the boy with a loud, clear voice.

As this suggestion were put on practice, Ron's sudden fear became adrenaline of pure bliss and delight. He was thoroughly enjoying the experience, once he was glued to the saddle and could control the animal. He grinned, and was almost tempted to retire his mask, in order to breathe in a gulp of pure, fresh air. He knew he couldn't do that, hence decided he was going to enjoy this time fully. He added more pressure to the horse's sides, and let his head loose, yet firm and steady. In response, Balkan speeded up, his gallop was faster, steadier, and the air broke against them, whistling into their ears. Ron could have never imagined he would ever enjoy as much as if he was mounting a broom, but now he had found that muggles also knew how to fly. Hermione followed the couple with a delighted, gentle smile, seeing the past in her present.

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A shadow, dark and capable of blending in with the night. The sombre figure evaded the Common Room in silence, and escaped into the fresh light of a decreasing, setting sun. The youth rushed towards the stables, hair igniting like flames flowed behind the slender body. Everything was ready, and she knew it. A bow and a quiver full of arrows was hanging from her shoulders, a short blade was placed in her dark belt, the black pants and the black shirt and vest, inherited from her years as assassin.

"Come on Bankara!" she told the young racing horse, once she was on her back.

As if a silent voice urged her on, the mare started off at a full gallop and penetrated the gentle, pale mist that floated into the depths of the woodlands. Ginny was ready for a fight, a fight to death against the murderous spirit that crouched into the woodlands. She was ready, her weapons, her former, old tools were sharp and ready to slash. Although the nature of the creature was not defined, she would not waste a try at getting revenge.

The horse galloped into the woodlands, swift and agile like a fawn, quick and valiant like the pureblood she was. Ginny mounted like the experienced rider she was, her face concentrated, her eyes gazing back and forth, examining every inch of the forest she could reach. She had ran away in silence, not letting anyone know, and only because Hermione would have never approved.

"Ginny!" gasped a ragged, tired and hoarse voice.

The girl expertly made the animal pass from a full gallop to a sharp, instant stop. She looked right, from where the sound had come from, the voice, the all so familiar voice that filled her heart with doubts and joy.

"It's you? But how?" inquired the girl, staring at the bearer of the voice with incredulous eyes.

To Be Continued…

AN: Sorry it took so long to write, but I've been working on other stories I wanted to get done quickly. Anyways, here it goes, another chapter, and I'm so totally loving how the story is turning out. Well, please, review and leave your comments.


	6. Dragon Spirit

AN: By the way, both uses, Magick and Magic are permitted. I'd rather use Magick because its the word Wiccans use to differ it from the magic tricks.

"Ron, come here, I want to show you something!" Hermione's voice said with excitement and she guided Ron and the black stallion towards the stalls.

The couple guiding the freisian entered the crowded stalls. Horses of all breeds and colours huffed and neighed nervously at their appearance. One nasty tempered mare plunged a bite at the stallion, making him leap back hence pulling on the boy's grip of the reins. Hermione calmed the beast with tender hands and shooing words, gently patting at the muzzle and neck.

"Leave him here, it is his stall!" Hermione pointed out at an empty box, the floor was a bed of straw, and a dish full of grain awaited golden and tempting for the animal.

Eager as he was, the animal pushed the boy aside and pounced on the food with hunger, lips almost drooling and foamy, and eyes bright with delight. Hermione pulled out the reins and bite to allow him a more comfortable lunch, and keeping also the security that he won't damage his jaw. Without more words, a silent expectation, an emotion burning within Ron's stomach comfortingly, they entered through a small, wooden door at the end of the stables.

The vision that launched before him glowed with the imaginary light of tales and fantasy. Horses, an enormous herd of horses paced and pranced happily before him. The equines were the colour of snow, with manes of pearly white, and a horn rimmed spiralled on their foreheads, longer in males, shorter in females. Hooves parted like a stag's, legs thin and agile, the long, thin tail of a lion finished in a thick mat of curly, pearly hair. Golden calves trotted in a game only they seemed to understand the rules, and young mares and stallions the colour of purest silver fought and galloped showing their strength and speed.

"They are…!" Ron began, gapping in awe and surprise, his voice faint as shock seemed to bloom within him.

"Unicorns, yes, probably the last herd in England!" Hermione explained, her eyes glimmered sadly as they gazed at the small field where the last unicorns made a living.

A large, male unicorn limped past, tired, older than he had ever been, and visibly exhausted and miserable. He stopped before the entranced, pale eyes gazed brightly in the direction of the two sorcerers, and he bowed gently and elegantly in a salute. The two friends bowed equally, awed and surprised at the animal's reactions, but deeply enchanted by his charm.

"Whisper!" Hermione said in a low, gentle voice, trembling with tears as the horse retired with slow, aching paces.

"Why?" inquired Ron in such a low whisper it seemed almost impossible Hermione could have heard him.

"The Unicorn!" Hermione turned to look at him with disbelieving eyes, "His name is Whisper!" she finished almost angrily, staring at the boy as if seeing through the mask.

"Oh, right!" Ron answered, although he was grinning so widely his fangs would have glimmered almost viciously, as if he was snarling had he not maintained the mask.

"Lavender was very fond of that unicorn, for some strange reason they seemed to get along perfectly. She was very lost when magick faded, and this animal brought her back to life. The night she… well" Hermione sighed and swallowed a big gulp of air before continuing, "that night she had been protecting him, the unicorn was injured and she faced the spirit to save him!" the witch could not suppress a gentle, strangled sob as she rememorized the terrible vision of her slain body.

Ron embraced her understanding, letting her pour her feeling onto his chest. He wanted to take off his disguise, he wanted to kiss her on the cheek and tell her all was all right, that he was there for her, but he couldn't. He had already lost too much, his brothers, his parents, Harry…and was not willing to loose Hermione's friendship and trust because of the horrible fact that he now owned a furry tail, furry ears and a mouth full of sharp fangs.

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"how? Why? I…I thought you were dead!" gasped Ginny staring at the figure before her.

"I wasn't! I was hiding! He wanted to kill me so I had to hide! But Ginny, there is not time to tell you my story, I need your help!" the boy said glancing at her through worried, silver eyes.

"Tell me!" Ginny urged staring straight at him with great seriousness.

"You need to help me!" the boy glanced at the sky with worry, "I need to hurry before the moon rises and transforms me!" he gasped rapidly, barely stopping to breath.

"How? You have always been able to control your wolf side! And it's not even full moon tonight!" gasped Ginny recoiling slightly, staring at the boy with frightful worry.

"Not any more, something is inside me, something controls me and wants to kill everything related with magick. You have to tell Hermione, you have to find a way of getting it out of me!" the boy moaned sadly, whimpering like a lost puppy.

"Come with me!" Ginny gasped, trying to grip his hand, which he refused recoiling fearfully.

"I can't!" he gasped, feeling the first leaks of moonlight touching his skin, "RUN!" roared the boy with pain and anger boosting within him, contaminating his blood like a venom.

"Not without you!" Ginny said fearfully, glancing at the way the boy curled in a ball, and the so familiar transformation began.

The Weasley would have been confident that the boy would never hurt her. The young werewolf had always had managed to control the wolf, befriend him without wolfsbane, promising hunts as long as he was allowed to control the body, and so the wolf was killed, but the instincts remained within a conscious, human mind. This time a shrill echoed in the woodlands, the transformation was wrong, it was not a wolf what was appearing before her. Claws sharper than blades, fangs like sabres, a strong body made to run and to fight, able to cross any obstacle. This was a demon, and Ginny knew she was lost, not even the dashing Bankara would outrun the spirit that had, so easily, defeated a Unicorn.

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The enormous reptilian creature swooped through the air, sniffing the scent of terror, following the trail of cold fear. Leathery wings flapped powerfully as the creature flew quick and strongly towards the source of the shrill, of the scream. Copper coloured scales glowed and sparkled like velvet, soft and silky. The eyes glanced around fearfully, chocolate eyes penetrating the ceiling of leaves, trying to go through the thick, treacherous cover in a desperate attempt of reaching the girl whose life was endangered.

There it was, threatening, a colour so pure, but which bore so much evil and darkness, white like the snow, like the very spirit he was. The beast pounced with a mysterious, almost echoing roar that stuttered and trembled like water, like fog. Ginny, frightened, attempted to crouch and cover her body with her feeble, fleshy arm, a frightened gasp erupting from her mouth. She hadn't felt as much terror than the time, that horrible time that had been burnt within her memory.

George had stood before her when Bellatrix Lestrange had fired the killing curse at her, receiving the impact. His blank face, his motionless body collapsing in a heap, and his unfocused eyes staring into infinity, and that brave glint still present in his features.

A roar, a thunderous roar boomed across the dark, clear sky. Ginny looked up and lost all voice, all motion for her body froze, undecided whether to consider the arrival as a blessing or a terror. Wings folded back, head pointed forward, a vicious gleam in the brown eyes, fangs bore bloodthirstily, and sharp claws extended menacingly towards the spirit. The white darkness didn't seem to realize the newcomer, and ignoring the powerful dragon was a terrible mistake.

A claw swished forward and the enormous legs collided against the ground, leaving the girl under the fibrous, strong chest and slender stomach. The whistling claw collided against the spirit sending it flying across the woodlands.

"No!" Ginny called frightened, extending her arm forward as if attempting to reach the white monster.

"Ginny, RUN!" commanded the dragon, the face staring at the girl with concern, worry and almost fear, the female voice with such familiar timbre stuttering.

"Hermione?" questioned Ginny all of a sudden, narrowing her eyebrows inquiringly.

"RUN!" bellowed the dragon more desperately, glancing forward in time to see the spirit prancing towards her.

The creature roared again, more loudly, more furiously, her chest inflating with burning air. Ginny obeyed rapidly, and proceeded to mount on the obedient mare, who had remained protectively, or maybe just too frightened to run, next to her. The two females didn't turn around, and Bankara's eagerness was visible when she pounced forward and galloped away as if it was the last thing she would do in life. The dragon lunged forward, jaws wide open, spitting a column of fire that nearly reached the spirit. The white being hissed like an infuriated cat and recoiled, turning around and fleeing into the darkness. He had accepted defeat, and had found the most dignified of the opponents, a spirit that had presented an stoical battle that should be mentioned in the very tales of ancient heroes and gods.

"Ginny…!" whispered the dragon, her brown eyes gazing forward, her breathing laboured, and her whole, enormous structure beginning to fade into the very mist that reigned this haunted woodlands.

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"GINNY!" yelled Hermione so loudly that her voice boomed through the room like a thunder.

The woman stood up abruptly, agile like a cat, her brown eyes wide and full of terror, fear and a great worry towards the girl mentioned in her voice. She had felt it so real, the spirit, the cold, silver eyes that bore so deep within her, and at the same time so pleading, so much suffering rested so deep within them. Hermione lost no instant to race out of her room, dressed in her pyjamas, but not caring being such a serious situation.

"Ron, Ron!" bellowed the girl, her voice still sounding like the roar of the dragon.

She entered the room so violently that Ron, startled, collapsed off his bed, dragging the quilt along with him. He was hidden in the shadows, but could not appear naked like he was, dressed only in a pair of pyjamas with nothing to hide his foxy features.

"Hermione!" shrieked the boy slightly annoyed, and also inquiringly. "What's wrong?" he asked standing up, still draped on the quilt and quickly placing his coat, mask and cap over his body.

"I think Ginny's in problems!" Hermione gasped through ragged, exhausted breaths.

"Ginny?" Ron let his cap drop onto the floor, his eyes glancing at Hermione so seriously, so wide, searching for something that could tell she was mistaken, or seeking doubt in her own visual orbs.

"Ron…" Hermione breathed taking a hesitant step back, her voice fading.

"What?" Ron blinked lightly, still staring at the woman with quizzed eyes.

"Your eyes, they are…glowing!" Hermione hissed in a soft, almost inquiringly voice.

Ron quickly looked at the mirror situated just in front of him. He saw nothing for a second, but just as he turned to corroborate the girl's word, he saw it. The moment his head twitched only a bit, a centimetre, the light of the full moon fell in a shower over his orbs. His eyes then emitted that bright, luminous greenish glow, so particular of night animals, as he, himself, was now. He glanced down and sighed gently, then retrieved his cap and placed it back over his head, covering his ears.

"Ginny!" he hissed as he walked past Hermione, grabbing her hand strongly and tugging forward with rushed, rapid paces.

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As the two friends emerged through the main entrance, Bankara tore through the woodlands, emerging across the thick curtain of treacherous leaves and branches with a leap. Ginny was leaning forward expertly, the face held tightly with a strong, firm hand on the reins. When the mare landed on the fresh, moist grass, Ginny sat back and let her gallop until she was next to the group, where she tugged gently at the right rein until the mare stopped.

"Ginny, oh my, Ginny!" Ron rushed towards the girl alarmed and also relieved that she was unscratched and whole.

Ginny was at a loss for words. Once she was back on safety, the girl dismounted her shaky body from the mare, and collapsed on Ron's arms the moment she landed. The youngest of the Weasleys broke as soon as the strong, comforting arms of her brother were wrapped around her smaller body. Tears stained her face and her brother's chest as the salty fluid flowed with ease, accompanied by continuous and rhythmic sobs.

"Ginny, oh Ginny, what happened?" the boy inquired, staring at the girl questioningly.

"We have to help him! We have to help him!" Ginny sobbed over and over, her eyes glossy and red.

"Help who?" Hermione inquired staring at the girl worriedly.

"He's hurting, he is hurting so much!" the girl seemed unable to control herself as her incoherent words repeated over and over.

"Take her inside Ron, I'll go guard the horse!" Hermione said taking a firm grip of the reins, for Bankara was very uneasy herself, and breathed through nervous ragged huffs.

"Hermione, he didn't want to, but tried to hurt me, and you came Hermione, you scared him away!" Ginny's eyes left her hiding place at Ron's chest to glance at Hermione with a demented glint in the blue depths.

"Take her inside Ron!" gasped Hermione rather uneasy herself at the words said by the little girl, "she's in shock!" the woman finished, dragging the horse along.

"No I'm not in shock, Hermione, you were a dragon! You are a dragon!" Ginny called at her, and her screams subsided as Ron dragged her along into the castle.

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Once the young colt had been placed into her box, well fed, dried her sweat and taken good care of, Hermione decided to walk away. She turned around and gasped loudly, taking a pronounced leap backwards, and reaching pointlessly for her wand, which wasn't there, neither functioned any more. Her muscles relaxed visibly when her gaze analyzed the factors more calmly, and she recognized the figure pacing so calmly along the stalls. A tall figure, dressed in bright plum robes, examined the horses with the interest of an experienced rider.

"Good night to you too Hermione!" the man said humorously, greatly interested in a strong, chestnut mare called, so fitting, Ginger.

"Professor Dumbledore, what are you doing here?" inquired Hermione glancing at the man with great stupor.

"I've come to check on these beautiful creatures, wonderful, agile and strong!" Dumbledore said stroking the mare's face tenderly.

"That one's kind of bad tempered!" Hermione warned glancing untrusting at the pointed ears, laying flat over the chestnut head and mane. "And you haven't come for the horses, but because of the spirit lingering in the Forbidden Forest!" she finished staring at the man.

"Very intelligent, like always Miss Granger!" the man left his attention on the mare and turned to stare at the girl, expectantly.

"What is he?" inquired Hermione staring with her full attention.

"A spirit that has reached our world through a fissure!" The man explained calmly.

"Ok, why is he pursuing us?" inquired Hermione with a slight frustration, having known recently that the beast was a spirit.

"He is something close to a muggle spirit." Dumbledore explained, smiling gently at the disbelieving eyes Hermione bore, "indeed he has been created out of the misbelieve, the anger and rage, mistrust and deception muggles feel towards magick, and his only purpose is to destroy all that which is magick." Dumbledore explained calmly, but Hermione perceived the saddened glint sparkling in his eyes.

"How can we destroy it?" Hermione inquired again, concise, straight questions.

"Only magick can!" Dumbledore commented, "or a spirit!" he added upon seeing the deception in Hermione's eyes.

"Then!" Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding, her head raised and her eyes glanced into her mind, reading those answers that had just flashed into her. "The dragon!" she gasped through ragged breaths.

"Indeed, Hermione, the dragon that saved Ginny is nothing but your very own animal spirit, the one animal you would turn into if you were to be an animagus." Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at the girl.

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Ron glanced at the young woman in which her little sister had turned into. Neville was by his side, staring with worried eyes at the young girl. He had been summoned by Ron to help him take care of his sister, while he went to retrieve Hermione from the stalls. Ginny lay placidly asleep, steady and calm as if no worries were terrorizing her, and Ron knew that hours of sleep did wonders in troubled minds.

"Neville, I'll go take Hermione, the stalls are too far away!" Ron said staring at the boy with glowing eyes, making Neville start but ask no question.

"Ok Ron!" the boy nodded shyly, not inquiring about the boy's strange, almost animalistic appearance, and the growl that seemed to rumble in his throat.

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Hermione hadn't dared to question Dumbledore about his situation here, or where he had come from, considering it was his mysterious will to appear before them. Dumbledore seemed to be fading along with the magick that had been their world, perhaps so linked with it that the loss of it was unbearable to his powerful gift. So she had simply said a brief farewell, as if they would see again tomorrow, and turned around to leave him with his mysteries.

The cold air slapped her on the face, and her chest seemed to breathe more easily now that she had weapons against the spirit. Herself. But first she needed to control such spirit to make it arise at will. So absorbed had she been in her own thoughts that she didn't see the shadow that rushed towards her with the speed of a fox being tagged by a pack of hounds, the black coat flapping like bat's wings, the chestnut brown eyes blazing with worry, and a warning yell fading with the wind.

A roar. A terrible, cruel, unnatural roar that belonged to everywhere but the tangible world. Hermione turned around and saw it, the spirit crouching before her, readying himself to pounce, the silver eyes glimmering on the white, cougar face, and the sharp fangs drooling with thirst for blood. It was a slender, enormous cougar, and Hermione admitted it could be called beautiful, had it not been for the steel glance it sent her, and the way it threatened to kill anything that glimmered with the slightest bit of magick.

"Hermione!" yelled Ron reaching her, now so close he could almost touch her hair.

The girl paid no attention to the shaky, shrilly voice. Fallen with the shock of seeing the beast, she laid there, on the moist grass, eyes filled with terror as she attempted to summon the dragon into her air. The cougar pounced towards her, fangs bared, claws ready to slash, and eyes injected with blood. It all occurred in a simple fraction of a second, for Ron got rid of his coat, mask and cap, and leapt over Hermione's fallen body.

A collision on the air, and both creatures fell to the ground with a thud, the grass below their bodies shattering with an infamous snap. Ron stood up rapidly, and stood before Hermione, his tail high, his hands ready to grab, and his fangs bared as a deep growl rumbled within his throat. The cougar stood up as well, his silver eyes staring sharp on Ron's blazing ones, a loud hiss echoing with the whistling wind.

"Ron!" gasped Hermione staring at the body, recognizing the tall, thin body, "Ron?" inquired the girl again, staring at the boy's living tail, the ears folded back with threat.

The boy could not look back, pleading or shamefully, whichever, but his attention had to be sharp on the spirit. He pounced forward and threw a bite at the creature, agily moving away when the cougar threw a well aimed slash. Ron then used the moment of unstable balance to kick the cougar, making it collapsed with a moan. It was his chance.

Ron pounced over the cougar to finish it off, his sharp fangs still bared. He leapt like the fox he was, crouching on the floor to act a mayor parabola. However, the cougar was immortal to the point that only lack of belief could kill it. The beast rolled on his back and took a firm grip of Ron's right leg with his knife like claws. The sharp nails dug on the boy's leg, slashing it and opening a deep collection of gashes. Blood began to pour from them and the crimson fluid had soon stained the cougar's fur and the boy's leg.

The collision had made Ron loose his aim, hence collapsing on one side and allowing the murderous beast to leap over his weakened figure. He snarled like a wolf and kept his fangs out, his hands keeping the sharper, larger fangs at bay, only using the strength of his arms. All seemed lost, he could do little damage with his hands, and he was not half as strong as the spirit to tear his throat. There was a slight longing to do such as the fury of battle ignited within his body, but his priority was to get out of this alive, and save Hermione.

The girl was with her eyes closed, deep in concentration, she was managing it, she could see Ron struggling with the puma from a height of many metres, although she was still intangible, shapeless, only a hazy mist that blended with the very light of the moon's silver rays. Then, the miracle, although at first it seemed like the loss of Ron's battle. Emerging from the woodlands, an enormous black wolf, human traits formed the powerful body. Two metres and a half in height, the powerful head drooled rabidly, the green eyes blazed with anger, fury as it plunged towards the white spirit.

Concentration lost, Hermione was back in her body in time to see the werewolf battling the cougar with ecstatic anger. The green eyes seemed almost maddened as he fought with valiant courage. Slashing with sharp claws, the cougar was thrown to the floor violently. The beast, not giving in, pounced onto the werewolf's towering figure, and the skilled animal threw a well aimed bite at the animal's hand, tearing the flesh and dripping blood. The cougar hissed angrily, glaring at the werewolf, then retreated through the woodlands, being pursued by the infuriated canine, dripping blood from his fangs.

"Ron!" recovered from her shock, Hermione called at the boy, laying on the grass and staring intently at the forest.

Ron turned around at the hearing of his name, and Hermione saw with a gasp the reason why he covered his face with a medical mask. His features were the same as always, except that his nose had a more canine like appearance, and his open mouth revealed a collection of sharp fangs, very common on a small dog. His furry ears were laid back with shame, and the beautifully long, furry tail lay motionless next to him.

The boy might have been ashamed, but his care for the woman was such that he stood up with much effort, having had to gather the integrity of his energy for such task. Limping his way, and dripping blood, Ron reached the girl with careful, slow paces, whimpering when he added too much pressure on his wounded, injured leg.

"Hermione?" Ron's eyes glanced right into her own, seeking answers about her well being, too much worried about her to worry about himself, or his unnatural appearance.

The girl examined him for brief moments, then leapt on him, embracing the youngster into such a tight hug Ron thought he would loose his breath. He returned the hug and pressed lightly, making her know he was here, he would never leave her. Hermione breathed in the metallic scent of blood, mixed with that gentle aroma of sweets that belonged to him, to Ron Weasley.

"Ron, you are…you are…, er…what exactly are you?" inquired the girl, pulling away from their embrace and examining him intently.

"Little Hermione know it all doesn't know what Ronnie has become?" Ron commented with a weak smile, attempting to lighten up the mood, and feeling weaker by the second.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped and punched his arm playfully, which made Ron laugh feebly.

"I'm an Anthro!" Ron explained resuming seriousness, and looking down shamefully, "I'm a human with animal traits, fox traits in my case!" he finished glancing tearfully at the flaming tail.

"Ron, look at me!" Hermione, noting his unease, placed her hand under his chin and forced him to look up, "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!" the girl said all of a sudden, once the boy's eyes were locked into her own.

The boy took a few second to digest the information, but as he did blood seemed to warm his paling face. Hermione moved forward, leaving closer to him than he had ever thought possible, not even in his wildest dreams. Humid lips were pressed to tenderly, gently and sweetly against his own, it was a soft peck that somehow meant more to him than the flaming passion of tongues locking in a tight knot. Hermione's stomach fluttered nervously as she pressed her lips so gently against the boy's, but calmed as soon as the boy joined in.

"Hello Ron, Hermione!" said a hoarse, wolfish voice behind them, "I'm not surprised to see the two of you romantically involved, it was something I have always foreseen!" the voice spoke again with a slight joy, a weak chuckle and a ragged cough following as if he had not used the voice in a very long time.

The two of them saw the werewolf emerging from the forest, now in human shape. Standing tall and proud was a man, covered completely in a black coat, a large hood covering the face. It was the very same man that had encountered Ron in the park the very day of his transformation, and somehow he felt he could trust the stranger, for something nudged in the pit of his stomach to trust him. Ron embraced the girl protectively when the man approached and retrieved his hood, revealing the true and unexpected identity.

To Be Continued…

AN: Sorry for the delay of this chapter, but I wanted to finish Where You Belong, my FFX fanfic about Titanic. Well, who is the mysterious werewolf that helps Ron and Hermione, who is the hooded man. How will the rest cope with the fact that he is and Anthro? Well, please review and tell me what you think.


	7. Old Wolf, Young Spirit

A matt of black hair glimmered with silver streaks under the pale light of the moon, each messy strand standing in one different direction. The skin below such untidy mop of black hair was pale like a ghost's skin. A tired, exhausted smile, however gentle and friendly like the most, and utmost excited at the vision, was written with bright luminous ink on his lips. His eyes were glimmering like the most brilliant of the jewels, igniting with an inner fire, shinning the familiar, bright green inherited from his mother.

"Harry…" gasped Ron through ragged breaths, his voice suddenly vanished from his throat. "it was you all along!" he told himself in a whisper.

"Harry, how did you…? Where were you all this time? What happened?" Hermione's voice flowed with her curiosity, and her eyes landed startled on the figure.

"Guys, I've also missed you too, but I don't think this is the place to begin my story, how about a cosy common room inside the castle?" Harry pointed at the window where a faint, yellowish glow signalled the presence of a fire crackling inside the chimney.

"All right, but I think we should take care of this first!" Ron pointed with hesitant eyes at the mass of coagulated blood now oozing a whitish, infectious liquid.

"Of course, and don't worry Ron, you won't have anything contagious!" Harry explained calmly, "the spirit is a hard bone to gnaw, but it has possessed a mortal body, and the wounds can as much as get infected like yours!" he finished aiding his red headed friend onto a standing position.

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The war was being chaotic, the upturn of events was being exaggerated, and evil seemed to be conquering the last provinces of light left in the world. Muggles had been killed indiscriminatedly, only because they were muggles. Wizards belonging to the side of the Phoenix, to Dumbledore's side were also being murdered cruelly. The sadistic Death Eaters had confronted Sirius and Remus to a death fight, animagi against a crazed werewolf, wild under the full moon's effect. George had been killed cruelly when he bravely stood before Ginny, receiving the impact of Avada Kedavra instead of his sister, to whom it was aimed. Charlie had turned the outcome for brief moments when he arrived with a whole flock of dragons. The bravest students were being killed, murdered in dark alleys or killed with pride during battle.

Harry raced across a book, hidden cowardly inside the castle's library, but who would prove to be braver than anyone. He couldn't understand why there was no way of killing Voldemort, why all the curses aimed at him did as much as to scratch his skin annoyingly. There had to be something here, in Dark Myths and How To Fight Them, one of those shrieking books sleeping calmly in the hidden section.

"Maybe this could be it!" Harry gasped excitedly, wincing slightly at his loud voice and expecting to receive a shooing warning from Madame Pince.

That would never happen again. She was gone, probably laying in a pool of her own blood like the rest, or cruelly slain by one of the beasts working for Voldemort.

"Vampire King.

A Vampire King is not exactly a vampire, but one demonic creature who reigns darkness. Able to hide in the shape of humans, this monsters can hide within magical population. However the younger ones will always look like humans, the older specimens become paler, their eyes become redder or black depending on the subject, and they become more bony and skinnier."

Harry skipped the parts about breeding and mating, and glanced only briefly at the fact that this creatures lived in the Realm of Darkness, a sub world under the very world of magick.

"The only way of killing a Vampire King is by the bite of a lycanthrope." Harry read utmost interested in such fact.

The boy's eyes darted across the sentence, reading it until its exact grammar was embroidered deep into his brain. A lycanthrope was the only way of killing Voldemort, if his assumptions were right and he was a Vampire King, which he most probably was. No wonder that Voldemort had recruited the world's werewolves, all except the few that remained on the good side. Here in England he knew only one, but he was not willing to risk another life, he wanted Voldemort for himself.

Harry glanced at the sky, it was full moon, and he knew just where his werewolf would be. Leaving the castle in a sprint, Harry penetrated the Forbidden Forest, and ran howling from time to time to call the only werewolf that was currently living in this area. The boy smiled pleasantly as a wolf appeared before him, his silvery blond fur glimmered like moonlight under the very rays of his mistress. Steel eyes glanced at him curiously, and a whimper escaped the lips inquiringly.

"Bite me!" ordered Harry severely, staring at the wolf with courage.

The poor animal simply shook his head, whimpering and lowering his ears in what Harry interpreted as a negative.

"Bite me you filthy pure blooded scum!" gasped Harry enraged, presenting his arm as a tempting platter.

The boy saw the animal snarl lightly, having caught the meaning of his words, but his whimper echoed once again as he also caught the intention of those daggers. Harry, frustrated at the lack of cooperation of the werewolf, pounced on him and tackled the animal to the ground. Opening the mouth of the beast once it was trapped against the ground, Harry placed his arm into the mouth and pressed against the fangs, such that he felt warm blood pouring out of the gashes, and the virus of lycanthrope entering his body. He felt sorry for the werewolf, for he could have never looked as miserable as he did now, his icy blue eyes glancing sadly at the boy. Harry just left, leaving the werewolf laying on his depression, a terrible, guilty feeling tearing him inside.

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Harry was standing before the monster who had mercilessly killed his parents, his friends, and unprotected muggles. He glared at him, but a knowing smirk was present on his lips, revealing the tips of a pair of fangs that were to grow in brief minutes. He stood bravely, facing the strongest, dark wizard of all times, his ace below his sleeve, a very good one indeed that will assure his victory.

"You fool, I have killed many stronger wizards than you, what makes you think I wont kill you either?" Voldemort sneered with a snake like hiss.

"Hope is the last thing to loose!" Harry said with such a tranquil, calm voice it angered the Vampire King.

"As you wish, I will kill you like I killed your father and mother!" Voldemort sneered again, smiling cruelly, almost viciously.

"Don't worry!" Harry began, seeing the rays of moonlight gleaming and beginning to caress his body, "I will kill you like I never did before, so you stay dead for once and forever!" the boy finished with a pained yelp as the effects of the transformation began.

It was over as soon as it started, his will to become a werewolf speeding up the transformation instead of fighting against it. The enormous black werewolf growled viciously, threateningly. He smiled to himself, seeing Voldemort tremble with fear for the first time in his life, such a pleasant enjoyment. The vampire attempted to throw a killing curse at Harry, his hand shaking so much due to the terror that swarmed within himself that the shot missed by a considerable distance. Harry, not wanting to risk his moment of glory, pounced forward and sank his fangs on the monster's shoulder, injecting the deadly virus in his blood. The boy also got his revenge by slashing and tearing the dying body, making Voldemort know the suffering he had been put through throughout all of this years lacking loving parents, living in the house of his cruel relatives, and being bullied by his cousin.

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"I saw fear in his eyes when he was dying, torn and bleeding, and still he would die due to the venom of my bite!" Harry explained brightly, "It was the most delightful moment of my life, seeing the most feared wizard of all times frightened under my claw!" Harry licked his lips, remembering the way he had felt when Voldemort had been almost begging.

"What did you do after?" Hermione inquired staring at the boy with a startled gaze, not expecting such story.

"I felt great, but my existence had caused so much pain that I decided to vanish, just like my scar, let everyone think the Dark Lord and I had both perished in the battle!" Harry explained calmly, looking down almost shamefully, and glancing up again, pleading understanding.

"So you've just been hiding all of this time?" inquired Ron passing a hand over the bandage that covered the stitches and the stinging wound.

"Getting used to my wolf self mainly, and you, did you find out what exactly are you?" inquired Harry glancing at the boy curiously, remembering a few weeks ago how the boy had been devastated.

"Uh, it's kind of a long story, you know?" Ron said with a slight grin, trying to evade the factors about his collapse, his doubts and his embarrassing moments, like forgetting how to land on a broom.

"Don't worry Ron, we have all night, tomorrow is Sunday. I also want to hear it!" urged Hermione with a bright, knowing grin illuminating her features.

"Hermione, you are so going to pay for this!" Ron warned through gritted teeth, smiling such that his fangs became visible.

"Oh, don't you try to threaten me with wolf fangs, Ron!" laughed Hermione, throwing Ron a cushion embroidered with the Gryffindor lion, which he easily avoided, hitting it and sending it flying into another direction.

"Well, it all began…!" Ron's voice began the story, swallowing various times to go through some of the embarrassing details, but which had to be told, or were simply worth it.

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The stormy clouds that had been sparkling, illuminating the battlefield with the electric glimmer of rays, began to dissipate. A screech like none had ever heard sent uncomfortable goosebumps crawling through the back spine of the combatants. Everyone stopped, Death Eaters and Phoenix alike, and all eyes were raised to the sky, the flaring gaps that began to appear, flaming chimneys that hid the comforting warmth of a terrible blizzard night. Rays of sun light penetrated through the thick, murky curtain, tearing it gloriously as it was only the representation of a terrible apocalipsis.

The eyes of the dedicated fighters directed towards the ground, towards the very first spot that had been illuminated. Nothing, only the ragged remains of a slimy black cloak, and the torn pieces of a golden and crimson uniform. This last one had been wore proudly, and Godric Gryffindor would not had felt better had it been himself inside such cloths. That was all left from the two opponents, that had fought bravely, and had both perished in a deathly hug. Or so people thought, and a minute of silence, for respect, or simply because of the shock, was maintained.

"Voldemort is dead!" ventured a voice, Neville's voice, which broke the silence stating the obvious.

"He is!" affirmed someone from the side of the Death Eaters, such was this shrilly, fear stained scream.

The Phoenix, filled with a renewed courage, pounced against the frightened Death Eaters, wands high and throwing all sort of curses, until no Death Eater was standing. Then it came to check on those belonging to the side of light, those that never stood up. This was a terrible task, for you had to check on friends, familiars, lovers, and see if their fallen bodies still held the breath of life. Unfortunately, few did. George was dead much to Hermione's dismay, Harry was nowhere to be seen, Bill and Fleur had been slain by werewolves, and the only ones that were still alive from the Weasleys were Ron, Ginny, Fred and Charlie. And it was then, counting the clean and polished new graves, that the survivors repaired on how high were the losses, and how few of them remaint. And it was after the burial that the army of the Phoenix dissipated like mist, seeking their own future away from the chaos that had changed their lives and spirits.

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Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, and the always good willed Rubeus Hagrid, ran down the crumbled ruins of the Ministry of Magic. They were in a hurry, apparently, and their looks couldn't have been worse. Covered in fresh blood, some of which was their own, most of which belonged to killed enemies, their clothes were torn, dusty and damp. Minerva limped from a leg, and Hagrid's left hand was a bloody pulp, his face a picture for tears covered it like a sparkling film.

"Is this necessary Albus?" inquired the elder woman through ragged breaths.

"It is Minerva, it's the only way to avoid such horror appearing again!" Albus answered, his face was very pale, but his eyes flared with determination.

"But Albus, we will loose our magic if we destroy the fountain!" the woman pleaded, apparently unable to conceive a life without magic.

"Yes, we will, but our younger generations will not." Explained the man smiling, their presence before the Room of Mysteries becoming unnoticed.

"What do you mean? Aren't we going to destroy the fountain that grants us our power?" inquired Hagrid, participating into the conversation with a shaky voice.

"Yes, but we are not destroying magick, we are only killing the source of our magic, the one thing that boosts our powers." Dumbledore commented, entering into the circular room. The wall with the doors didn't move, the mechanism had been destroyed during the first fight into the ministry. "Before we enter, you will solemnly swear!" the man obliged severely.

"What is it?" Minerva asked swallowing, her voice weak.

"You will solemnly swear to live like muggles. Magic is a thing of myths, of the past, and no trace of it will be left. The horror we have experienced shall never be repeated." Explained the man, obtaining satisfactorily a nod agreement from the two sorcerers.

Then, made such vow, the trio penetrated through one of the doors, into the next chamber, the one so secret and so secure that, once, the door had been invisible. This was the Chamber of the Fountain, and that which delivered magic was situated in there. Unfortunately, if had to be destroyed.

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Hermione glance through the window of her room at the vast esplanade that expanded it green wings through the castle grounds. Trotting lightly, mounting on a gentle white horse called Pegasso, was Ron. He was smiling, laughing so cheerfully, wincing from time to time, but still swollen with happiness. The boy was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of tan pants, nothing else to hide the traits that had once made him feel so ashamed. Following Ron was Harry, trying to maintain his body steady on the nervous back of Valiente, the Spaniard andalusian stallion, with great strength and spirits. He too was laughing and smiling, as friends reunited like in the old times.

The woman smiled to herself, feeling her very trait of joy igniting a spark in her heart. But the revelation about that murderous spirit was still present in her mind, the conversation with the sneaky Dumbledore was fresh and repeating over and over. The spirit was the materialization of the muggle desire to eradicate magic, and only that can destroy it.

"But magic is gone!" moaned Hermione with desperation.

"Is it really?" said a misty voice behind her.

"Hi Luna." Hermione didn't even turn around to salute the girl.

"You know? My father used to say there were two kinds of magic." Luna commented pacing until she was next to the older girl.

"Wow, tell me something new for a change!" Hermione didn't want to sound so rough, but her world had already died, and it was dying again because of old prejudice, so she felt frustrated and nervous.

"I'm not speaking about Wizard magic and magic tricks, I'm speaking about magic and magick!" Luna explained so proudly and knowingly she almost seemed to think she had said something important.

"What?" Hermione turned to look at her, her eyes were wide with disbelief, but it wasn't one of revelation but one of confusion. Had she heard correct? Or had Luna just said something completely stupid and incoherent.

"Hermione, I'm not too smart, and my father's reputation was not the best, I know all that." Luna didn't turn to gaze at the girl, but her dreaming voice sounded so feeble, so sad Hermione felt sympathy for the youngster. "I do know what I said sounded strange, but the difference is in the way to summon one and the other, the magick I'm speaking about resides in all the living beings, or so my father told me. I believed that was true because all magical creatures can use it and don't use wands, or mutter spells, or anything!" she finished, taking a deep breath.

"Luna…" Hermione was amazed at the words this woman, so mysterious and so intelligent all the same, the truth she perceived in them gave her an idea, "Thank you Luna!" she said smiling so gently, so understanding, although Luna still hadn't stared at her one single time, eyes fixed so dreamily on the two figures riding below.

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How stupid can she had been? Runes, she had studied runes, and a sentence came into her mind. "Runes are thought to have been used by ancient civilizations to summon elemental magick" magick with K, it was not the kind of powers her kind knew, but one deeper, more profound, and older than time, before even the existence of the fountain. There was only one place where she would find information about that kind of magick, and that was her beloved library.

So that was her path, racing with accelerated paces, she felt more alive than ever, her nostalgia flooding with the expectation of investigating once again. Unknown, silver eyes followed her steps from the depths of a shadow, crouching behind one of the dusty, old statues.

AN: Sorry for the delay, but I've been very busy. I think this is working pretty good, don't you? I don't know if you are catching the drift of where this is going, but there is not much left already, just a couple of revelations and the very end. Maybe three or four chapters more. Well,please, read and review.


	8. Where Magick Lays

Hermione was sighing desperate. An enormous pile of books had grown before her, increasing in size as time passed. Night had finally blossomed outside, and darkness extended its veil across the skies and the earth. Her tired, puffy eyes were able so see due to the creamy flickering of a candle's flame. Letters were beginning to blend with each other, playing and leaping through the pages of the book she was trying to read.

"Where is it? Why isn't it here?" Hermione yelled desperately, glaring at the book with all her anger.

"Because you are not looking where you have to." Said a voice behind her.

Hermione turned around. Her eyes widened considerably as a golden glimmer reflected on them. A smile spread across her lips, a gentleness flowed through her eyes, and her face was a picture of joy.

"You are alive!" she gasped breathlessly.

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"I have to go now, Ron!" said Harry, glancing at the sky darkly. "Being the one to kill Voldemort has its consequences." The youth said with a half heartedly grin.

Ron was rubbing his horse with a brush. He turned to look at the youngster and smiled calmly. The red headed slapped the animal's neck when he tried to bite him, then resumed his conversation, growling warningly at the animal.

"I know, Harry. It's ok, I'll care for your horse for you!" Ron said with a saddened smile.

Harry nodded thankfully and retreated. The moon still hadn't appeared in the sky, but it wouldn't take long before the beast inside him was released, uncontrolled. Harry, definitely, didn't want to be near his friends when that happened.

"I wonder what Hermione is doing?" questioned Ron to nobody in particular, once he was alone.

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Hermione was chatting placidly with a youngster. His hair was platinum blond, sleek, and fell upon his cheeks in loose strands, while part of it was brushed backwards. His eyes were a glimmering silver, sharp and studious, silent yet attentive, like a cat's eyes. His skin was pale, and thin, and his features were sharp and rough, and he seemed to be eternally smirking.

"But how? Why were you gone?" the young woman asked, still shocked at the boy's presence.

"That's irrelevant, Hermione. Listen, I don't have much time, but you must find that magic. It is the only way of defeating that monster!" the youth said worriedly, his eyes glancing at the moon fearfully.

"But what do you know about that thing?" Hermione questioned suspiciously.

"Enough as to tell you that tonight the murderer will be nearly invincible, you HAVE to hurry!" the boy hissed, gritting his teeth, and staring at the outside.

Hermione was about to reply when a voice calling for her silenced her attempt, and shut the boy's mouth. His grey eyes widened upon seeing the newcomer. It was a familiar youngster, but the change was, to say it, impossible. His pale skin was suddenly a reddish tan, not too noticeable, but enough to realize it. His flaming hair suddenly had spiked up, like a frightened cat's fur. To make matters even stranger, the boy had sprouted fangs, whiskers, pointed, furry ears and a fluffy tail.

"You?" Ron gasped, glancing at the boy with disconcert.

"Hi Weasel!" the boy smirked, grinning a dangerous smile.

Ron growled a guttural sound and pounced towards the boy. A strong arm pinned the young male against the wall. The red headed growled deeply, threateningly, while his chestnut eyes bore into those silver orbs. Those silver orbs that reminded him of something cruel, of something vicious and evil. Sure, he had been on their side, but they just never made a good contact. The moon, the full moon was submerged into the depths of those eyes.

Ron's eyes widened, realization beginning to nag him in the back of his head. Him jumping over Hermione's fallen body. Revealing his secret. The white puma, the spiritual beast, glancing at him murderously through those silver eyes.

"YOU!" Ron gasped filled with shock, "You are the assassin!" the boy growled threateningly.

"Ron please…" Hermione started severely.

"Yes! I am! The monster has possessed my body, and gets strong at night!" the boy explained, looking at Ron very straight, "And tonight there is full moon, tonight the wolf and the beast will become one, and the monster will be invincible…" the boy shuddered under Ron's grip.

"You have to fight it, Draco!" Hermione pleaded, believing that the boy could outsmart the spirit's presence.

"Only magic can fight it, Hermione. You need to go to Dumbledore's office, find the books, learn the spells… and kill me!" Draco pleaded, staring at Hermione with sincere desperation.

"NO!" Hermione yelled shocked, staring at the boy as if he had gone crazy.

"It's the only way!" Draco said angrily.

Taking Ron's momentary distraction, the young man pushed the red headed aside and began running across the corridors. Ron yelped with shock when the boy pressed his hand upon his chest and applied a strong force, releasing part of the air from his lungs. The young Anthro began running after him, yelling at him to stop.

"Stop pursuing me, stupid fool!" Draco howled at him, "The moon is almost up!" the boy said knowingly.

Draco sprinted up the stairs, racing rapidly to the top of a tower. The boy pushed the door open and emerged in the astronomy tower. Ron leapt into the room right behind him. The fox extended his arms to stop another attempt of escape from the Malfoy heir. Draco glanced at Ron, the full moon illuminating his face, his features were saddened as the young boy shook his head miserably.

"Stupid Weasley!" Draco said, nearly furious with him.

The golden haired youth collapsed on a heap. Ron recoiled lightly, as his eyes widened. The newcomer was struggling with himself, as if he was being coiled by an invisible snake. White fur sprouted all over his body, his bones shapeshifted, and his whole body grew a good metre and a half taller. When the boy stood up, he had become and enormous jaguar creature, a killing machine standing on two legs, with claws and fangs, and a head as large as Ron's torso.

"Crap!" hissed Ron, when the beast bared a collection of fangs as large as his hands, and began growling.

The monster pounced upon him, a delicious delight glimmering in the silver eyes. Ron leapt aside and climbed up to the stone barrier that protected people from falling off the tower. The feline hissed at him, and licked his lips hungrily. Ron did all he could think of, he jumped. The red headed was cautious enough as to let his body fall towards a roof, which was a good, five metres down.

The fall was not as pleasant and agile as he would have thought. The strength accumulated made his nervous knees buckle under his weight. Ron collapsed and began rolling down the roof. The boy was trying with all his might to grip the red tiles, yet his clawless hands simply slipped down. Emptiness was right under him, the height was enormous, and his howl echoed in the night. In the last second he managed to grip from the roof's edge, where several metallic things were pointed upwards to sustain the large amount of snow. It was hurting his palm, which began to bleed, yet it maintained him alive.

The monster roared with frustration and anger, as if he had been hoping for the boy's fall and demise. He leapt onto the roof and began galloping down, drooling crazily, baring his fangs and growling at every step. Ron gasped fearfully, the monster was about to reach him, and he just couldn't leap down. That was until he saw the brightly coloured glass standing proudly at the height of his waist and feet. The boy started to swing, back and forth, back and forth, hand bleeding and searing pain stabbing his arm. Release.

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Hermione rushed to Dumbledore's office. Once there she practice an exhaustive examination of every book. She found it. Elemental magick, runic magick. The language of runes was the language of the spells, the consonance with nature filled the being with magick. She knew the names of runes, she had been in nature for long now, she could do it.

"Fire!" she hissed in the language of runes, feeling the heat filling her being, the flame flickering on the palm of her open hand.

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Ron flew and crashed against the window. He entered in one of the corridors, rolling on the ground. His whole body was full of tiny cuts, most of which were bleeding, yet his aching body was invisible in comparison with his fear. Ron stood up and sprinted down, not looking back, not wanting to know what had happened to that rampaging beast. Ron slipped down the stairs, leapt towards the main entrance, and began rushing towards the Great Hall.

A roar filled the air, increased by the echo. Ron slipped down in his braking effort. Before him was the beast, smirking in such a Malfoyish way it was impossible not to recognize the human below that monstruous appearance. Ron recoiled, looking up at the growling monster. The spirit smirked and pounced forward, throwing his clawed paw at the small Anthro.

The Main Doors exploded in a collection of twigs and splinters. The small fox creature had flown through the hard, yet now slightly rotten wood. Ron collapsed on the grass and rolled on the moist grass. He laid there, very still, whimpering lightly, feeling weak and broken. All his body ached, all his bones hurt, and the various cuts in his body were bleeding more profusely.

"Stupid boy!" the Spirit growled leaping through the shattered door, and landing next to him. "I must thank you for allowing me to enter this world, but that will not save your life!" the beast growled and pounced forward, claws and fangs ready for the kill.

Ron shut his eyes tightly, waiting cowardly, weakly, for the inevitable. He was too weak to run away, or to fight back, and by far too injured to hope survival. The gentleness of a song filled his ears, the fear of a feminine yell hurt his head. Both songs blended, yet Ron never opened his eyes to check on the situation.

A neigh similar to a whisper and a melody filled the night. A white horse galloped towards the entrance t full speed. A large, silver horn was resting on his forehead, between two pale eyes. Hermione had arrived just in time to see the scene, Ron torn and broken, laying on the ground. The unicorn galloping towards the monster. The spirit raising his head and shrieking fearfully at the elegant creature racing towards him.

"Whisper!" Hermione gasped, running down the stairs to help Ron.

The horse stabbed the beast straight in the chest. The white spirit emitted an acute, long shriek. It meant pain and suffering, yet no blood was pouring and no wound was made. The beast fell to the ground, but there was a separation of beings, since the creature that rested unconscious on the humid grass was a golden werewolf. A hazy mist, resembling a jaguar or a puma, still lingered in the atmosphere, hissing at the group like a snake.

"Hermione, use the spell!" the unicorn urged, nodding at her with his horn.

"Fire!" Hermione gasped in runic language, not bothering to question herself why a unicorn was talking.

A flame was born in her hand, and grew to a magnificent ball of pure fire, hot and red like a coal. Without loosing time, she threw the magick at the monster. The flame licked and fed on the monster's ethereal substance, consuming it and growing stronger. The spirit shrieked and shrilled until his nonexistent voice faded into nothingness. Then the flame sparkled gratefully and vanished back to the world of elements.

"Good work, Hermione. You truly are a magnificent Witch!" Whisper said, shapeshifting into something human.

"Professor?" Hermione was awed, glancing at the horse becoming the old Headmaster.

"As you can see, my decision of eradicating magic was wonderful. Fortunately there are people like you, intelligent, brave, sacrificing, and determined. However, Magick is far more powerful than our old tricks. You must keep it something private. You can give class, but to enough people as to control who will make a good use of it, and who will not." Dumbledore explained, a smile in his lips.

"I will, Professor!" Hermione started reassuring, yet her words dried when a whimper filled her ears, "Ron…" she gasped fearfully.

Hermione kneeled next to the boy, and grabbed his hand, as tenderly as she could. Tears were swelling her eyes, falling and dripping down her cheeks with a deep, profound grief.

"Oh, please Ron, hold on, please, hold on!" Hermione whispered, staring at Dumbledore with pleading eyes.

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The young woman was laying on the empty bed. She sighed deeply, staring around. The sun was glimmering through the curtains, bright and clear, cleaning away all the darkness and grief from that terrible night, almost two years ago. She looked down, her forehead was sweaty, and her whole body ached, exhausted, yet it had been worth it. A new joy had bloomed to wash away all the grief that could have once filled their hearts, a new hope arrived.

"Congratulations, Hermione, it is a boy!" Ginny came in, carrying a little being, tenderly cradled in her arms.

"Oh, my little boy!" Hermione cooed, her eyes sparkling with the illusion of seeing her little child for the first time.

It was a tiny boy, thick and wrinkled, and full of baby fat. The baby's skin was a little darker than the normal paleness. The eyes were observant, a clear chestnut colour. The hair was a thin mop of reddish fur. Two furry ears flicked back and forth, and a small, fluffy tail wagged happily at the comfort of being with his mother.

"Hello, George…" Hermione rubbed her nose against the baby's face.

"Why George?" a voice said in mock anger.

"Oh, Ron, I like that name!" Hermione said with a grin, staring at the man, and at all the people gathered around her, including a healthier Draco and a grinning Harry.

"Hey mate, I wouldn't say the baby is your son, start looking for suspects!" Harry smirked, patting the red head's shoulder.

"Pity, I was planning on making you his godfather, but since he is nothing mine I can't say!" Ron said grinning, looking proudly at Harry.

Harry went silent and pale all of a sudden.

"His… Godfather?" the boy said, his green eyes flickering with a park of unbelievable joy.

"Yes, we thought you would like it, but if you don't…" Hermione started saying, her eyes staring at the boy seriously.

"I'D LOVE TO!" Harry howled, hugging Ron tightly and smiling pleasantly at Hermione, yet not going near with fear of hurting the child.

"I have one question, shouldn't you be imparting classes?" Hermione questioned, trying to catch a glimpse at the outside, where a sound of joyful voice was beginning to become too obvious.

Draco looked at Harry and Ron, who shrugged and smiled foolishly at each other, making Hermione roll her eyes. Yet the pride glimmering in Ron's eyes was a priceless gift she would have given gold to see. There was never a father so loving, so gentle and so caring as Ron Weasley.

The End.

AN: Ok,it is finished, FINALLY! I just decided I needed to get this through, and I'll continue writing the rest of them. I'll try to get everything done before I start writing my book. Well, I hope everyone enjoyed it, since I think it's a really good story. Not as good as A Life To Live, but pretty good.


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